I won’t be silenced, I won’t go speechless
Throughout Hong Kong’s recent struggle for democracy, music has played a central part. In the Umbrella Movement, protesters sang the Les Miserables song “Do You Hear the People Sing?”. In the movement sparked a year ago by extradition bill, protesters sang the Christian hymn “Sing Hallelujah to the Lord”, and then adopted a new anthem, “Glory to Hong Kong”.
Now a new song – single-handedly produced by a young Hongkonger known simply as ‘Jasmine’ – is capturing hearts and minds. Released on YouTube earlier this week on the anniversary of the death of Marco Ling-kit Leung, the protester who died after falling from Pacific Place, the music video – in English and Cantonese – and titled “The Fools Who Dream” is an adaptation of a song from the movie La La Land. But its message is clear. “I wanted to tell everyone who is fighting for freedom that even if we are seen as naïve, or as fools, and even if we might very likely lose this struggle, I am still glad we tried,” says Jasmine. “I am glad we have shared and fought for these dreams together.”
The focus on “dreamers” comes not only from a romantic idealism, but from the code words protesters in Hong Kong used last year. “Because they would not want to admit that they had been in the protests, many demonstrators would say they ‘went dreaming’, or ‘I dreamed I went to Causeway Bay, Tsim Tsa Tsui or Mong Kok,” explains Jasmine. She was also inspired by a realisation that her love of the creative arts and her passion for freedom stemmed from the same root. “Both are about pursuing my dreams,” she says.
That message is reinforced by the lyrics, which describe in intimate detail the impact of teargas – but despite “trouble breathing”, and spending a day “sneezing”, “she said she would do it again”. It raises a salute to “the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem”. In a raw admission of human fallibility, the song acknowledges “the mess we make” as well as “the hearts that ache”, but suggests that the “madness” provides “new colours to see”. Poignantly, the video features Veby Mega Indah, the Indonesian journalist blinded in one eye after being shot by Hong Kong police.
Jasmine’s song is illustrative of the power of music in the world’s struggles for freedom – and indeed for survival. My sister, Ruth Rogers, is a violinist, who some years ago took a break from the world’s prestigious concert halls to accompany me on a visit to refugees on the Thailand-Burma border and, crossing the border illegally into the war zones of eastern Burma, performed for displaced people in the jungles. She played to former political prisoners, landmine victims, former child soldiers, orphans and widows.
At one moment she played an upbeat piece of music and asked children to draw what came to mind. They drew sunshine and happy scenes of kids playing. Then she played the theme tune to the movie Schindler’s List – the story of Holocaust rescue – without telling them what it was, and they drew scenes of the horrors they had witnessed. Rape, killings, torture, slavery and burning homes.
Describing her experiences, Ruth wrote: “The eerie quietness of a group of orphans, each little face masking a terrible history. The exhaustion in the eyes of their carer. The eruption of smiles as I burst into a ‘Czardas’. How haunted I felt when I looked at their drawings … A land where people are displaced, villages torched, landmines exploded. Hearing a man my age tell of how he watched his grandparents murdered. …. The power and beauty of music; its healing properties and soothing traits, its ability to provoke emotional response, its complexity and simplicity. My fortnight on the Thai-Burma border taught me so much about myself, my playing, music, life, and humanity, in a way that words will never express, in a way that has given life a perspective that I will never be able to explain.”
My sister went back two years later with a string quartet. Instead of just taking a violin into the jungle, four young women with four instruments strode into the steamy war zone. “What will we remember most?,” Ruth wrote. “An infant falling over, crying with pain, and there being no parent to scoop him up and comfort him with hugs and soothing words. The sight of a thousand smiling children as we got jazzy with Gershwin; the delighted applause after a flamboyantly fast rendition of a Haydn finale; the poignantly reflective atmosphere during Fauré’s ‘Pavane’ as they all drew pictures. The tears as we listened to the story of a former political prisoner; dinner with a wonderful man who was shot dead a week later; a bomb planted near a migrant village. The gratitude of children who have just been given what we would consider to be simple things like soaps, toothpaste, toothbrushes and biscuits; the sparkle in a child’s eyes who has just been allowed to play the cello; the giggles as someone makes a mistake in a game; the innocence and fun of musical mischief.”
In over 25 years of activism, I have witnessed the power of music so many times. I have seen the power of music and song move people in ways that reports, policy proposals, news articles and op-eds don’t. That’s not to negate those aspects of human rights activism at all – they’re the bread and butter of advocacy and a policy-maker in a foreign ministry is more likely to respond to a well-argued op-ed, letter, parliamentary question or resolution than a song – but in terms of mobilising the people, there’s power in music. U2’s “Walk On” song and Damian Rice’s “Unplayed Piano”, both for Aung San Suu Kyi while she was under house arrest; the Specials’ “Free Nelson Mandela” song; and even simply cultural songs among the resistance movements I have worked with in East Timor, Burma and the Maldives all illustrate this. Indeed one of the Uyghurs’ most effective advocates is a singer, Rahima Mahmut.
Some years ago I came across the band Ooberfuse after my friend Shahbaz Bhatti was assassinated in Pakistan and they made a tribute song. I contacted them, and we ended up working together on songs for Burma and North Korea, and they made an amazing song for the campaign for the release of Asia Bibi, sentenced to death for blasphemy in Pakistan. I saw the power of music for advocacy campaigns through their work.
Jasmine says the motto in her university student society in Hong Kong was “when words fail, music speaks”. And the reality is, words do often fail. “Music is the best language,” she adds. “It links people together when we feel weak, it helps hold memories,
Indeed Jasmine’s own name comes from a movie and a song. Just as her new song was inspired by “La La Land”, her name came from “Aladdin” – the new version – and specifically inspired by the film’s song “Speechless”. The key words – “I won’t be silenced, you can’t keep me quiet, I won’t go speechless” – motivated both Jasmine’s personal fight for Hong Kong’s freedoms and her passion to deploy song for the cause. “The song ‘Speechless’ described my strong desire to stand up to all the repression,” recalls Jasmine.
I have seen the power of music to mobilise protesters, comfort victims or inspire supporters. In a world full of pain and challenge, music matters. As my sister says: “Music matters for so many different reasons. During enforced “lockdown” it has helped people to feel that their spirits are free even if their movements are controlled. For those locked up for crimes they did not commit, it provides hope and refuge. Music is a universal language that knows no boundaries of race, language, wealth or status. It connects people, feeds imaginations and gives comfort to those who are suffering. It uplifts, energises, soothes and calms in ways that we may never truly understand. It is said to be the last thing to be held onto by a dementia patient – someone may not remember their name but will still be able to sing the tune of a song they love. It has been a way to ease babies to sleep since time immemorial. Without music the world would most certainly be a far poorer place.”
My sister and my friend Jasmine are right. The world is a better place because of both of them.
In the words of Jasmine’s song: “So bring on the rebels, the ripples from pebbles.” Let’s throw those pebbles and see the ripples spread their healing touch – through music and activism for the liberation of the human spirit.
For the fools like me – and far more courageously those on the streets of Hong Kong – who still dare to dream of a better world.
Benedict Rogers is a human rights activist and writer, and co-founder and Chair of Hong Kong Watch.
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