Music and Politics
Rafet Rudi is a composer, conductor, and philosopher of music, and a member of both the European Academy of Sciences and Arts and the Albanian Academy of Sciences Arts. A prominent figure in Kosovo’s musical life, he directed the professional Radio and Television Choir in Prishtina from 1980 to 1987 and the Kosovo Philharmonic Choir from 2006 to 2020.
As a composer, his works have been published in Paris (Transatlantiques) and Hamburg (Peermusic) etc. In the mid 70s, following his neoclassical phase, he engaged with avant-garde currents influenced by the Polish school of Lutosławski and Penderecki. His stay in Paris in 1979 – 1980, where he studied under Claude Ballif, lead him to abandon atonality. Since 2000, Rudi’s expressive language has synthesised elements of archaism and modernity, freeing itself from rigid stylistic constraints.
In the years 1976 – 2014 Rudi worked as a professor at the University of Prishtina (Music Department). Additionally, he founded ReMusica – International Festival of Contemporary Music in Prishtina, and serves as the conductor of the ReMusica Vocal Ensemble..
Perhaps because music lacks the capacity to express something concrete, many do not perceive any direct relationship between it and the various currents in society, nor any direct connection with politics itself. Another reason this relationship is overlooked lies in the belief that such a link is impossible, since music, as a refined and perceptible field of lasting value for the human spirit, appears distant from politics; a realm often regarded as harsh, serious, and temporally limited in its values. Nevertheless, this relationship has existed. The connection between musical life and social life has always implied a link between musical life and politics. The thread that binds these two spheres is deeply vital. At times it may not be immediately visible, yet it is by no means as weak as is often assumed.
Viewed historically, it is easy to observe that representatives of these two domains, musical artists and politicians, have always maintained specific relations, sometimes good and sometimes strained. Despite fluctuations, they have communicated in distinctive ways and have demonstrated a certain mutual awareness. If music is considered from within its own sphere, this relationship might appear distant, relative, even unnecessary. Such a view is often justified in the name of neutrality and the ideal of artistic purity, principles grounded in the humanistic values of art, which regard its primary function as the elevation of humanity.
The matter changes significantly when examined from the perspective of politics. From this standpoint, the connection appears necessary and indispensable. This position may stem from the very nature of politics itself, which seeks to penetrate every sphere of life, regardless of intention, whether benevolent or coercive.
The first attacks on our national entity: attacks on music
Chroniclers of social and political life will recall that the first attacks against Kosovan national entity after 1981 were directed precisely at music. Numerous examples can be cited: the banning of many ‘suspicious’ songs in the field of light and popular music; the removal from radio and television programming of works by anathematised composers across various genres and forms, including purely instrumental works such as sonatas and symphonies; and the placing of recordings of Albanian composers into a figurative bunker.
At Radio Prishtina, the situation escalated to the point where the works of certain so-called “counter-revolutionary” authors were not merely excluded from broadcast schedules, but the recording tapes themselves were destroyed in an act resembling vandalism. At the same time, during the most insidious political attacks on Albanian culture, the construction of so-called common core curriculum for the entire territory of the former Yugoslavia included music among the most politically “problematic” subjects, alongside language and history. Given the marginal position music traditionally occupies in our educational system, the seriousness with which curriculum designers approached this subject came as a surprise.
Politics, as a dominant force in society, plays a decisive role in many social processes. It has regulated, or more precisely imposed, relationships upon music, often without granting it the freedom it inherently requires. By contrast, the influence of music and musicians upon politics has been comparatively limited.
Although attitudes within this relationship vary, they are largely conditioned by two extreme systems: politics under totalitarianism and politics under democracy. Interestingly, in both systems, when they are highly organised, music holds significant value. The relationship between these spheres has always existed, regardless of the autonomy each claims.
As previously noted, the political interest in music tends to be more direct and intense than the reverse. This is a relationship of conditioning, even when not undertaken with malicious intent. Yet regardless of intention, the conditioning of art by political systems predominantly produces negative consequences. Conditioning consists of granting or limiting freedom, of permitting or restricting spontaneous development. Political interference in art has often been arbitrary and coarse, at times even absurd. Rulers have intervened directly to remove entire acts from operas or to transform tragic endings into triumphant conclusions because the political moment demanded it.
Political interventions in music
Under the police doctrine of Metternich’s regime, Beethoven was compelled to alter Friedrich Schiller’s text in the Ode to Joy of the Ninth Symphony. The censor Baudrais denied performance permission to Méhul’s opera Mélidore et Narcisse, arguing that it was insufficient for a work merely not to oppose the state; it had to actively support it. After the suppression of Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony in late 1943, the work was labelled “counter-revolutionary” and “anti-Soviet.” Critics questioned how Shostakovich could compose a tragic symphony when the Soviet army stood near victory, while earlier, at the outset of the war, he had written an optimistic one. According to them, such pessimism implied sympathy with the enemy.
In dogmatic systems characterised by total control, politics demands unconditional submission, and punishment awaits dissenters. In the former Soviet Union, across literature, film, and music, it was nearly impossible to find a significant artistic personality who had not been accused of “formalism,” a charge that, especially during the Stalinist period, was politically dangerous and aesthetically meaningless.
In such circumstances, artists in the communist bloc faced difficult choices. They could submit to official demands and become artists of the regime, thereby securing privileges at the cost of personal conviction. They could resist and retreat into artistic isolation, preserving aesthetic integrity while accepting marginalisation. Or they could assume a role akin to the yurodivy, a figure in Russian tradition who, under the guise of eccentricity, criticised social reality. It has been suggested that Shostakovich himself may at times have embodied such a position.
Engaged music
When politics imposes itself upon music, music may nonetheless seek forms of engagement without surrendering its integrity. If not vulgarised, which is always a risk, music can influence politics by shaping collective consciousness and articulating social tendencies in sublimated forms. As Étienne Souriau has observed, when a cultural or ethnic community must defend its spiritual goods, it frequently turns to the arts, especially music, where its living spirit and stylistic purity are most vividly preserved.
Many musical genres have emerged precisely as responses to social conditions. The blues, which developed in the late nineteenth century within African American communities in the southern United States, represents one such form of social expression. During the Second World War in Hawaii, after the imposition of emergency rule and restrictions on civil liberties, song ceased to function merely as entertainment and became an integrative social element that helped preserve communal cohesion.
Even within our own cultural environment, under different historical circumstances, this phenomenon has also been present, and in recent times such a tendency has become particularly noticeable. It is true that this appears less frequently in art music, which can be explained by the limited possibilities it has for direct and active communication with a wider public. The tendency is especially evident in our folk and traditional songs, where a new dimension can be observed, above all in their lyrical content. These songs are saturated with contemporary themes and represent a spontaneous reaction to everything that currently preoccupies our society. Unfortunately, due to commercialisation, this tendency, which in essence could be positive, risks slipping beyond the boundaries of artistic and aesthetic control. In that case, the result may be the opposite of what is intended and could ultimately lead, we hope not, to the degradation of our rich folklore tradition.
Modernity in music as an obstacle to totalitarian systems
The negative consequences of political engagement are most visible in the aesthetic plan. Uncritical artistic alignment with political agendas often leads to concessions in stylistic orientation and artistic standards. Such concessions are more common among artists lacking consistent creative strength. They manifest in exaggerated use of national elements in melody, rhythm, or harmony, producing superficial folklorism. Totalitarian systems frequently favour this uncritical emphasis on folklore in serious music.
With the rise of Nazism, Germany, previously a centre of modern musical innovation, marginalised composers such as Schoenberg, Stravinsky, Bartók, and Berg. Many emigrated, particularly to the United States. Mediocre figures rose to prominence, leading to artistic regression and the erosion of universal cultural values.
History also offers more hopeful examples. During the profound social upheavals in Poland in the early 1980s, composers such as Lutosławski and Penderecki maintained high aesthetic standards while responding to political realities. Penderecki’s monumental Polish Requiem, dedicated to the victims in Gdańsk, did not depart stylistically from his broader oeuvre. It addressed a national tragedy while retaining universal artistic value.
These examples demonstrate that the relationship between music and politics is both real and complex. Ideally, they should not clash. It would be preferable for each to respect the autonomy of the other. Yet history shows that when circumstances compel their interaction, such a relationship may become necessary. The depth of crisis within a society often intensifies their interdependence. Undemocratic conditions foster confrontation, whereas democratic progress allows for dignified distance. Ultimately, the historical responsibility of politics and the aesthetic conscience of music determine the nature of their interaction.
Koha Ditore, October 1990
Festival Life creates shared moments of audiences and artists, eye-to-eye
