Italy:
Nobel prize winner introduces Freemuse book

When 'Shoot the Singer' is published in Italian language on 12 May 2007, the book has a new introduction written by Nobel price laureate Dario Fo.

Entitled 'Sparate Sul Pianista! La Censura Musicale Oggi', the Italian version is launched at the Torino International Book Fair on Saturday 12 May at 17 pm.

Dario Fo satirist, playwright, theater director, actor, and composer received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1997. 'Shoot the Singer' was originally published in English in 2004. It included a poem written by Yoko Ono and comments by Damon Alburn of Gorillaz and Blur.

How could you put a song behind bars?

Excerpt of introduction by Dario Fo

In order to sing, you don’t need anything. You don’t need to be highly educated, nor to hold a university degree. You don’t even need to have a good voice… It is for this reason, perhaps, that many songs – those that were born under-the-counter, on the streets, in the fields, in factories and other unfortunate places – have always frightened power and its lackeys. Light songs and bad songs that were born poor and illegitimate, sharing the same blood – red, vivid and vital. Tough and impossible to eradicate like weed, they keep sprouting everywhere, in deserts as in cities, in the East as in the West. And anywhere you’ll find somebody with a pair of scissors in his hand who is determined to make those sounds disappear. But the silencing of one voice cannot sever the roots of those songs. A thousand years ago as today, storytellers and minstrels, rockers and rappers are still there, singing another history, the one that people want to hear and power wants to silence.

But music has the ability to fly: one cannot catch nor grab it. How could you possibly put a song behind bars? How can people kill a rhythm, a ballad, a refrain? Among all the possible aspects of censorship, music censorship is the most absurd and odious. That is why I think this a praiseworthy book, which provides us with an accurate document about the repression of musics that is still taking place today, in the Third Millenium BC, across the Third, the Second and the First World. (...)

I have subsequently written a number of “upsetting” songs that have disappeared for years from Italian radio and tv, like “Ho visto un re”, “Il primo furto non si scorda mai” and “Prete Liprando e il Giudizio di Dio”. And let’s not forget about the 1962 edition of the popular saturday evening TV program, Canzonissima. Its opening track “Su cantiam” [“Let us sing”], which I had written together with composer Fiorenzo Carpi, mocked the mediatic idiocy of our Beatiful Country. While the refrain went “Let us sing, let us sing, let’s not think, let’s not argue, let’s start singing…”, people could see images of miners, migrants and workers on strike. Rai [the Italian public tv company] didn’t like it, and all this contributed to put a ban on us.

As a zen proverb goes, “When the wise man points at the moon, the idiot looks at the finger.” So does censorship, which hopes to eliminate the cause by targeting its effect.

Excerpt of introduction to 'Sparate sul pianista! Music censorship today' – EDT, Torino 2007
Translation by Vincenzo Perna. Copyright EDT 2007. All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without the prior written permission from the publisher. This excerpt is republished with permission from the publisher.

Censors from across the world…!

Vincenzo Perna's introduction to the book

'Sparate sul pianista!' presents an ample, panoramic view on music censorship, showing the variety – even the creativity, one might say – of the systems deployed across the globe in order to control and silence musicians. The book suggests that in a great part of our planet the repression of music is more the rule than the exception.

Why does music attract so much interest from power? The reading of this book suggests a wide number of possible explanations. First and foremost, obviously, stand “problematic” political opinions expressed by musicians and their songs’ lyrics. Behind the banning of musicians and music, however, one could find several other reasons, which go far beyond matters of explicit political content. Music is censored because it witnesses the existence of ethnic minorities that should not be seen and heard; because it opens a public space to women in places where somebody would like them to be excluded from the public sphere; because it makes people meet and develop a sense of collective identity.
Furthermore, because it conveys sexual pulsions and instances of freedom which are perhaps vague, but powerful and difficult to discipline. Because music is in itself difficult to control and is perceived as a menace by power. Last but no least, because, by censoring music, politicians are able to exploit their victims’ popularity, coming forward as watchdogs of public morality. As Czech writer Josef Škvorecký once wrote, “if music fills a football stadium of raving youngsters, it signals danger”.

Freemuse’s volume examines the phenomenon of music censorship in 16 different countries of the world, through the testimonies of musicians, scholars, journalists and even censors, thus offering a penetrating picture of the relationships between art and society across different latitudes and political systems. In this sense, for example, the book offers much food for thought on the relationship between Islam, political power and music, and presents a number of particularly poignant cases illustrating the dramatic lives of musicians and the repressive mechanisms deployed by institutions – mechanisms which are often illegal even in totalitarian states. That has been the case of the late Kurash Sultan, an Uighur musician who has been arrested, imprisoned and tortured by the authorities of Kirghizistan following the pressures of China, the country of which he was officially a citizen. Or it has been the case of the touching, extraordinary encounter between a South African musician and his former censor.

The description provided by the ex-policeman of the methods adopted by the South African security forces during apartheid offers a rare view of the level of sophistication employed by authoritarian regimes to fight opposition, showing how rebel music is fought not only by banning artists and records, but also through a systematic effort of intimidation and disinformation. As a highly-repressive but well-organized and efficient regime, apartheid South Africa was surely not the system that people tend to think typical of underdeveloped Third World. Many will notice how that sort of invisible persecution – made up of pressures on the media and on live music venues, record stores and record labels – can be easily exported into so-called democratic countries.

In fact, the volume focuses as well its attention on various Western countries, helping to deconstruct the idea that music censorship is a phenomenon characteristic of the South of world, typical of backward regimes and totalitarian states. Is censorship thriving in our developed West? One shouldn’t be surprised: the lists of abuses of human rights presented every year by Amnesty International reports touch almost all the world’s nations.

If the planetary dimension of a phenomenon such as the persecution of musicians raises a fair amount of indignation, it also urges us to interrogate ourselves about the possible forms of censorship in industrialized, democratic West. This mainly takes the form of “corporate censorship” (or bureaucratic censorship, one might call it), carried on by media through lists of unwelcome artists and contents. That practise is perfectly represented by the case of US radio network Clear Channel, which, shortly after 9/11, issued a proscription list containing “suggestions” on songs that should not be broadcast.

The opening article by Martin Cloonan leads us even further. What does “censorship” exactly mean? Does censorship require the presence of an explicit and systematic intention to control a given musical behaviour, or is it sufficient an omission? In the case of the exclusion of an artist, where do matters of aesthetics end and where does the repressive action begin? To what extent market logics do not turn into a form of limitation of public space that becomes censorship? It is clear that, under the umbrella of the term “censorship”, one can find a varied range of circumstances and behaviours.

As I said, the book shows the variety of systems deployed in order to control music, but also suggests some possible strategies of resistance, underlying how in many cases the support of the community can be of great help to musicians under pressure. Indeed, as Michael Drewett shows, the presence of censorship has often stimulated its victims’ ingenuity, pushing them to develop new, creative ways of taking advantage of their enemies’ strength. We find here another paradoxical effect of censorship: when cleverly exploited, a case of censorship can produce a great deal of publicity and become a phenomenal tool for questioning the mechanisms of manipulation of public opinion.

Readers will notice that the book does not address the issue of music censorship in Italy. The subject is touched by Freemuse’s website, which discusses the case of a cd series called La Musica della Mafia, that has sold over 150,000 copies in Germany and produced a certain amount of public outcry. According to some, the belated distribution of the collection in Italy has been caused by fears of “negative reactions and even censorship”.

We do not have here enough space to discuss in depth the problem of music censorship in Italy. From the staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s operas in the XIX century to Fascism in the 1920s and 1930s, however, the issue of the political control on popular music in Italy has always been an important one. Fascism, in fact, has been responsible for the invention of the derogatory expression “musica leggera” [literally “light music”], a term still widely used in Italy to describe popular music (the implication being that, if music is “light”, it cannot be taken seriously). We must also mention the infamous Commissione d’ascolto [“Listening Committee”] of Rai – the Italian national public tv and radio company – which operated between the 1950s and the 1970s. The Commissione has been responsible for the elimination from the Italian airwaves of songs of popular singer-songwriters such as Luigi Tenco, Francesco Guccini, Fabrizio De André, Lucio Dalla, and many others.

The absence of Italy from the pages of this book, however, does not depend on the high level of protection of freedom of expression in our country. At the opening of the new millennium, Italy might not possess institutional entities devoted to the control of music and may have not seen sensational cases of music repression, but has certainly seen many cases of media censorship. Not casually, in 2003 the country fell to the 53rd place in the Annual Worldwide Press Freedom Index published by Reporters sans Frontières (between Macedonia and Peru, for the record). In April 2002, the then Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, at the time on official visit in Bulgaria, stated that a series of extremely popular Italian TV personalities would be banned from all six TV channel under his control (3 owned by himself and 3 by Rai, which is indirectly controlled by the ruling coalition). His so-called “Bulgarian edict”, therefore, made people like veteran journalist Enzo Biagi, TV journalist Michele Santoro and comedian Daniele Luttazzi disappear from the Italian airwaves until 2006. In 2003, the satiric TV program RaiOt, by Sabina Guzzanti, was cancelled after the broadcasting of its first episode. In 2004 Planet, an Italian satellite TV channel, suspended the broadcasting of the show L’anonimo bicefalo, by Dario Fo and Franca Rame.

During the Berlusconi era – while comedians have invented a new, para-political genre of social criticism – the attempt, or, at least, the intent to control music have not disappeared from Italy. I refer, for example, to the polemics caused by the planned performance of Eminem at the Sanremo Festival in 2001, to the request of banning the show of Marilyn Manson in Milan in 2003, and to the campaign against rock singer Vasco Rossi, guilty of wearing a T-shirt showing the image of a leaf of cannabis. All those cases have been generated by members of parties of the centre-right coalition (but sometimes as well by members of the opposition), and have seen attempts to ban concerts by involving judges and local governments.

In 2004, “non-aligned” music was targeted by Rai. On the occasion of the 1st May concert in Rome, a mass concert traditionally organized by the main Italian unions in Piazza San Giovanni, the Italian public TV company took the decision to avoid live broadcasting of the event. That happened because during the previous year’s concert, held shortly after the invasion of Iraq, singers Daniele Silvestri and Meg (of the band 99 Posse) had used TV live broadcast to vent their opposition to the war and to the Berlusconi government supporting the invasion. Shortly before 2006 Italian general elections, veteran rock magazine Il Mucchio Selvaggio scheduled a cover showing a “catzillo” (a penis-shaped character featured in a punk comics) in the guise of Berlusconi. The magazine’s April issue, however, eventually reached the shops with a cover portraying musician Prince. The Italian distributor had refused to distribute the other version of the magazine on account of possible legal charges and reprisals.

Censorship motivated by reasons tied to sexuality would require a special discourse. Clearly, the weight of the Catholic hierarchy in Italy makes any issue that is presumed to be offensive to Christian morality into an easy target for politicians who aspire to earn credit with religious leaders. It should also be reminded how Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI, has in the past repeatedly criticized rock music.

For the sake of political equality, it is also important mentioning the declarations against Neapolitan popular music issued in December 2006 by Giuliano Amato, Minister of Home Affairs of the (now) ruling centre-left coalition. Talking about law and order issues in Naples, Amato stated that the music of “neo-melodic” singers (a wide group of local popular singers, epitomized at national level by Gigi D’Alessio) is contiguous to crime and celebrates the “camorristi” (the local mafiosi) as heroes. “If we will succeed”, he declared, “neo-melodic singers will have to sing other tunes”. The minister, however, forgot that popular music has its origins in the world of ordinary people, and sometimes in the underworld. Styles such as blues, jazz, tango, fado, rebetiko, rumba, salsa, flamenco, samba, rock and rap were not born in the academies of the bourgeoisie but on the streets, often growing up in urban slums.

On the important issue of what popular culture is we refer readers to the article on narcocorrido (chapter 20). Eljiah Wald points out how the calls to censorship of this controversial Mexican music genre – which is accused of celebrating druglords – in fact reflects “a class thing more than a matter of crime. This is poor people’s music, and not respected” As it frequently happens, the call to censorship mixes aesthetical judgements with ethical considerations, thus taking for granted social effects of music which are in fact impossible to demonstrate, while at the same time revealing the social biases and authoritarian suppression by the ruling elites.

In reference to the article on the US (chapter 18), I should stress that this Italian book offers its readers access to the translation of an ample extract of the extensive report on music censorship in the US after 9/11, published by Freemuse in 2005 (available on EDT website at the page www.edt.it/sparatesulpianista/). The report, which expands the analysis of the issues discussed on this book, is obviously of great interest, not only because of the persistence of “war on terror” and US military occupation of Iraq, but also because of the United States’ political and economic weight and of the influence of their cultural and musical model. If it often possible to see in the US a glimpse of European society’s future trends, then musicians, media and audiences on this side of the Atlantic should pay a great deal of attention to this book.

Finally, I would like to thank Marie Korpe, executive director of Freemuse and editor of the English edition, and Eric Nuzum, author of the report on the US, for their help and cooperation. Further information and updates about the issues and artists discussed in the book can be found on Freemuse’s website (www.freemuse.org.).

References
Amnesty International, Annual Report 2006, Amnesty International 2006.
(Il) Canto di Malavita: la Musica della Mafia, CD Mazza Music 2001 (distr. it. Amiata Records).
Caroli, Menico Proibitissimo! Censori e censurati della radiotelevisione italiana. Garzanti, Milano 2003.
Fabbri Franco, I gruppi raccontano la storia. Intervento al seminario “Cantare la storia”, Università di Urbino marzo 2004, in Storia e problemi contemporanei, 39: 2005, Clueb - Bologna (disponibile alla pagina web http://www.francofabbri.net/pagine/Uni_Download.htm.).
Ginsborg, Paul, Berlusconi. Ambizioni patrimoniali in una democrazia mediatica. Einaudi, Torino 2003.
Illiano, Roberto (ed), Italian Music during the Fascist Period. Brepols, Turnhout 2004
Lucarelli, Ottavio - Sannino, Conchita, Napoli, Amato contro i neomelodici. “Celebrano i camorristi come eroi”. La Repubblica, 14.12.2006
Reporter Sans Frontières, Worldwide Press Freedom Index 2003. Reporter Sans Frontières, October 2003.

Sul curatore
Marie Korpe è direttrice esecutiva di Freemuse (Freedom of Musical Expression). Giornalista, ha lavorato per diversi anni per la Radiotelevisione svedese e altri media scandinavi, come reporter, occupandosi di politica, società, cultura e cronaca.


Sul libro
La censura della musica soffoca l’anima di una cultura. Questo libro fornisce per la prima volta un’indagine su scala globale dei casi di censura musicale nel mondo contemporaneo. Esamina inoltre le cause, i metodi e la logica che stanno alla base dei tentativida parte di governi, organizzazioni commerciali, autorità e gruppi di pressione religiosi di impedire che la gente ascolti determinata musica. Il libro tratta di una serie di casi riguardanti un numero incredibilmente vasto di paesi come Palestina, Turchia, Corea del Nord, Messico, Francia, Israele, Sudafrica, Afghanistan, Birmania, Cuba e Stati Uniti. Ciò richiama l’attenzione sull’enorme apprensione manifestata da autorità diverse in società differenti nei confronti della musica e sull’ampio armamentario di metodi repressivi adottati. Il volume illustra alcuni casi specificied esplora alla radice le ragioni delle preoccupazioni istituzionali, raccogliendo contributi di studiosi e giornalisti, offrendo testimonianze degli stessi musicisti ed esaminando, in due casi, anche le motivazioni fornite dagli stessi censori.


Su Freemuse
Freemuse è l’unica organizzazione internazionale dedicata alla documentazione della censura musicale, a livello globale, nel mondo contemporaneo, censura che non colpisce soltanto compositori ed esecutori ma anche il pubblico. L’organizzazione è impegnata nella creazione di una rete mondiale di supporto a favore degli artisti colpiti, nella diffusione di informazione sui casi di censura musicale e nell’analisi dei meccanismi repressivi messi in atto. Freemuse è nata nel 1999 con il nome di World Forum on Music and Censorship e ha costituito il proprio segretariato nel 2000 (www.freemuse.org). È finanziata dal Ministero degli Affari Esteri danese e dall’Agenzia Svedese per la Cooperazione e lo Sviluppo internazionale (Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency).