Popular Culture as Propaganda
Or “Art for Art’s Sake” Revisited
“Beyoncé is this country’s best propagandist right now”
A sentence that launched enough discourse on TikTok for a full series television drama back in January (i.e. this TikTok). As tends to happen when #YapTok gets their teeth into something, the main point of the original comment was buried under yo mama jokes, fights over who was the bigger activist, and debates on who qualifies as Black in America (monoracial vs. multiracial). The broader argument was whether the Americana imagery used during the Beyoncé Bowl and on Grammy-awarded Cowboy Carter was nationalist propaganda cloaked in patriotism or a subversive reimagining that centered Blackness within Country music and American identity. The performance may not have been intended to be so argumentative, but Mrs. Carter must be accustomed to such critique over her work (and watching along from her alleged burner accounts). I’m not here to rehash the conversation, rather I find it an interesting entrypoint into the tensions between popular culture, media literacy, ideology, and race. I meant to organize my thoughts on the matter at the time, but thankfully I waited and the perfect comparative presented itself.
Cut to the Super Bowl 59 halftime show.
Kendrick Lamar Duckworth, or Pulitzer Kenny as I call him, delivered a highly-anticipated performance on Sunday that had a little something for everyone. There was a touch of more commercial bits with his future tourmate SZA making an appearance. There was a level of pettiness we all expected (or hoped for), with the inclusion of “Not Like Us” and a certain Bi-racial rapper’s ex-girlfriend crip walking on stage. Lamar’s performance also embraced loads of Americana imagery and symbols. There was Samuel L. Jackson as Uncle Tom or Uncle Sam (depending on who you ask). There were dancers in red, white, and blue assembled as the American flag. There was a nod to his ancestors and the work they’ve done to build the United States. Like Beyoncé’s, the performance teased out how Black identity fits within/against/despite America – but Lamar’s was received with much less skepticism.
Kendrick has always centered Blackness (specifically a West Coast/ L.A. culture and experience) within his music, so the storytelling and intentionality was consistent with other live performances he’s given. On the one hand, this makes him a legend in the hip hop, and on the other it precludes him from a mainstream imagination (why non-Black people may have found the halftime show boring). Lamar has always carried a “For Us, By Us” attitude meaning the cultural references and touchpoints are for those who get it. In fact, there being an inside joke is much of his critique in which there is a “culture” understood by those who have the lived experience and outsiders who are either of a different race/socioeconomic status/politics, or the “wanna-bees” who serve as culture vultures and will never be accepted by the in-group (the “us” in “Not like Us”).
The narrative of his performance was a game in which his attempts to play are being policed by Jackson for being “too ghetto” or needing to be more “palatable” in order to secure a win. He’s embodying what we all endure to “make it in America” by playing it safe, knowing your place, and code switching depending on the audience. The game is a balance of self-expression and awareness of how we are perceived by a wider (i.e. white) public that typically determines who wins and who loses. According to W.E.B. Du Bois, this double consciousness is putatively experienced by African Americans who have always had to reconcile the tensions between their identity as Americans and the racial qualifier added to create distance between them and white individuals (who could identify as American only, no qualifier needed).
Beyoncé paints a similar story, with Cowboy Carter (and her performance of it at the Beyoncé Bowl) being an ode to those erased from the history of country music. She’s riding in on a horse. There are tons of Black dancers wearing cowboy hats, fringe, and sashes. There is a pick up truck, lots of red, white, and blue coloring, and the expected full band she brought back from her iconic Coachella set. The album itself features both past and present Black country singers who have either been forgotten or are currently being ignored by the same industry that snubbed her in 2016 when she dared to dip a toe in their genre (and kill it btw). Beyoncé relies on the same double consciousness that African Americans have in which we can be so instrumental to a country/a genre/culture and then be pushed out and told that we don’t belong. She insists that if no one will recognize the history, she will. And her recent Grammy win for Best Country Album shows that the hard work paid off (to her meme-able surprise).
The discourse post-performance, however, show that there are some who didn’t get the message. In media studies, we call this encoding and decoding. According to cultural theorist Stuart Hall, producers of media encode messages which audiences then decode. A symmetrical encoding-decoding process is reliant on a couple of things including the frameworks of knowledge, the technical infrastructures, and the structures of production on either side, meaning what producers put down is not always what audiences pick up. In fact, Hall articulates that there are three types of interpretations: a dominant or preferred (the audience is aligned with producers), an oppositional (the audience is not aligned), or negotiated (the audience will agree to disagree). The various interpretations of a text can also be chalked up to polysemy (meaning multiple interpretations of the same thing are possible) or pluralism (meaning interpretations are formed by an individuals’ placement in structures of power which are diverse) which again echo the idea that everyone is different and can decode texts in various intersecting or contradicting ways no matter how they are encoded.
Seeing Beyoncé as propaganda and Lamar as genius when they are making similar arguments is due to these dynamics and the ways that particular symbols, images, and genres can be taken up by groups of people. Is Beyoncé part of the American propaganda machine because she is embracing a genre typically associated with white artists in a 613 wig and cowgirl boots? Is Lamar’s status as a rapper more respected because of hip hop’s origins as a voice of subversion and critique to the American status quo? Is it because he’s a man, she’s a woman and society is sexist? Is it because of his Pulitzer? Is it because we anticipated (and got) a tour announcement from her right after, proving that she’s only a capitalist? The response to these questions depends on the person answering, but the point is, there could be some truth in all of them. When it comes to popular culture, anything’s up for debate and everyone sees things differently. Even if we got an hour-long documentary where either presented the behind-the-scenes to their thought process, it probably wouldn’t satisfy everyone (though I’d definitely be tuned in).
L’art pour l’art, Revisited
The secondary question posed during these moments of politicized popular culture (or popular culture that goes political) is if music is just music and we should learn to enjoy things instead of divulging into think pieces (though I make no apology for this one). L’art pour l’art, translated to english as “art for art’s sake”, was coined by French philosopher Victor Cousin in the 19th century to express the idea that art needs neither justification nor serve any political agenda. This perspective sees an inherent value in art outside of any sociopolitical factors that can be placed on it — the opposite of what someone like Stuart Hall (or frankly I) would believe (everything is political). The distinction between art as politics or art for the sake of art typically emerges in moments of heightened political discourse or moments when we wish to separate art from the artist (I’m wondering how the Kanye apologists are feeling about that now). We currently find ourselves in the former, dealing with a new but old administration whose arrival has created a sense of anxiety and fear of the unknown for some and a sense of regret for others. Both Beyoncé and Kendrick Lamar performed at a time which demands they pay attention to the context, but it seems one was more successful than the other in getting their message to land.
The relationship between art/pop culture and politics tends to be cyclical and discretionary, with politicians using pop culture as a pathway to their constituents and elements of popular culture reflecting/critiquing/historicizing politics. Whoever sings the national anthem during a presidential inauguration understands that it is a pledging of allegiance to a political party or candidate. Hence Beyoncé performing for Obama’s makes as much sense as Carrie Underwood performing for Trump’s – we wouldn’t necessarily expect the inverse. Celebrities pop up at campaign stops, show up for protests, and post about their beliefs on social media. During the Grammy Awards, Chappell Roan used her acceptance speech for Best New Artist to advocate for a livable wage for musicians. Taking explicitly political stances can have consequences – as I’m sure Underwood came to learn and hope Roan does not – but audiences expect them anyway when the stakes get too high.
For Black Americans, the stakes have always been high. Our entry into popular culture was itself a political act. Black writers, musicians, actors, and storytellers have always had to create with politics in mind, because there were so many obstacles and hurdles to be accepted as good enough. Phillis Wheatley was an enslaved poet. Jackie Robinson broke the color line of major league baseball and would later be recognized in the Hall of Fame. Josephine Baker was the first Black actress to be in a major motion picture. James Baldwin’s essays made him one of the most striking voices of the Civil Rights movement. Their very presence in their respective fields was politically charged, and it remains so despite the recent attacks on diversity and inclusion in our country. Just last week, Beyoncé became one of the four Black women to win Album of the Year at the Grammy Awards. Anything she creates exists in a context of racism, exclusion, and violence that marks the experience of being Black in America.
And despite Lamar’s claim that “The revolution [was] about to be televised”, it’s not. Real change can’t exist in popular culture alone. They must be met with material actions that can be felt by the masses, not consumed by the masses. That Lamar cites Gil Scott-Heron at this moment ironically highlights the very limitations of his performance or any that are structured within corporate interests and public spectacles. We can appreciate the centering of politics within these moments of entertainment and escapism, but they will rarely be enough. Or rather, enough for everyone.
To close, here’s an adapted excerpt of Scott-Heron’s original 1971 song, for your consideration.
The revolution will not be televised The revolution will not be brought to you By Netflix, Apple Music, or the NFL The revolution will not be right back after a message from our sponsors Or commercial interruptions that cost $8,000,000 The revolution will not go better with Doritos or Totino Pizza Rolls The revolution will not be unregulated semaglutide The revolution will not be delivered by Ubereats or Doordash The revolution will not be televised The revolution will not be televised There will be no pictures of the global protests against the US government With the sitting president in the stands of the game There will be no highlights on the instant replay The theme song will not be sung by Beyoncé Nor rapped by Kendrick Lamar The revolution will not be televised The revolution will not be televised Will not be televised Will not be televised Will not be televised The revolution will be no re-run on streaming services, brother The revolution will be live
Oooo I been saying this 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽
This was incredibly insightful and was able to put a lot into perspective. My issue with the idea of pop culture activism (paraphrased) is that very few understand that it is only the first step to a much larger purpose we must all participate in.