In an era when global crises unfold live on our phone screens, the outdated notion that politics belongs solely within government chambers is rapidly losing ground. Politics is no longer confined to parliaments or press conferences. It is now showing up on stages, in galleries, and on runways. The impulse to separate it from culture has not only become impractical, but is also now out of place in the society we live in. Spaces once seen as neutral or untouched by politics are being reclaimed as places of protest, solidarity, and public reckoning.
During a recent performance of Carmen at London’s Royal Opera House, an unidentified cast member brought a Palestinian flag on stage during their final curtain call. In a setting known for tradition and restraint, the gesture was quiet but unmistakable. Some saw it as brave, others as inappropriate. But the more important question might be this. Why are we still so surprised when artists respond to the world around them?
Only weeks earlier, the Glastonbury Festival, long seen as a symbol of freedom and escape, transformed into a powerful platform for political expression. Banners calling for ceasefires fluttered across the grounds while artists spoke openly about climate change, trans rights, war, and injustice. The outrage over ongoing crimes against humanity was loud and clear on the main stage.
A defining moment from Glastonbury 2025, came during the performance by Bob Vylan, the London-based punk rap duo who ignited controversy with a set that blurred the line between art and activism. On June 28, frontman Bobby Vylan led the crowd at the West Holts Stage in chants of “free free Palestine” and “death to the IDF,” referring to the Israel Defence Forces. The BBC broadcast the performance with a content warning but faced backlash for not cutting the feed. The incident drew condemnation from UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer, festival organizers, and the BBC itself. As a result, Bob Vylan was dropped by their talent agency, United Talent Agency, and had their US visas revoked.
In the aftermath, prominent artists including Massive Attack and Brian Eno formed a collective to support musicians facing backlash for speaking out on Gaza. The group criticized UK Lawyers for Israel for leading campaigns aimed at silencing dissenting voices.
Bob Vylan defended their actions as a protest against global inaction on violence in Gaza, emphasizing their opposition to military atrocities rather than any ethnic group. The controversy sparked a broader debate about the role of politics in music and the limits of free expression in live broadcasts. While some viewed the performance as a necessary political statement, others saw it as crossing into hate speech. In response, the BBC announced new policies to tighten accountability during high-risk live events.
More broadly, the episode underscored a growing trend of artists using their platforms to address political issues, challenging the old notion that entertainment should remain apolitical. This shift reflects a cultural awakening to the reality that performance cannot be separated from the social and political conditions that shape our lives. Festivals like Glastonbury are no longer just spaces for escape; they have become sites where artistic expression and social responsibility intersect. Audiences are no longer just seeking music; they are looking to personally connect with artists who confront the world as it is, bringing urgency, outrage, and hope into public view. For performers like Bob Vylan, especially those from marginalized communities, politics is not an add on to their art; it is embedded in the words, the sound, and the very act of being seen and heard.
This is not limited to one cause. Across Europe and beyond, women have taken to the streets and stages to demand safety and dignity. In cities including London, Madrid, Warsaw, and Istanbul, public protests have grown in response to gender-based violence, not just as reactions to individual acts, but as resistance to the systems that allow those acts to continue without real-lasting consequences.
In 2022, thousands of women dressed in black filled public spaces following the death of Sarah Everard and other global tragedies. These gatherings became part protest, part performance, giving form to shared grief and rage. In Poland and Ireland, mass demonstrations have helped drive movements for reproductive rights. After the death of Mahsa Amini in Iran, women across the world cut their hair in front of cameras, in concert halls, and on award stages. Each act was personal and political at once.
These moments are not outside of culture. They are the culture. They mark a shift in how we understand the role of art, music, and shared space. These were once seen as places to escape the noise of the world. Now they are places to face it.
Not everyone welcomes this change. Some feel politics ruins the experience, or makes it harder to enjoy. But that discomfort often reveals something deeper. The ability to ignore politics is often a sign of privilege. For many people, politics is not an idea. It is a matter of survival. In today’s cultural landscape, silence is not neutral. It is a choice. More and more artists and audiences are choosing not to look away. They are using the space they have to say clearly. We are paying attention. And we will not pretend otherwise.
This is not a collapse of boundaries. It is a recognition that those boundaries were never real. It is an awakening. A reminder that art and justice are not separate. That a song can be a protest. That a festival can hold both joy and fury. That a stage can carry not just sound, but truth. The politics of performance are not a distraction from life. They are a reflection of it. The most powerful art does not offer us escape from the world - it calls us back into it.
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