From the battle cries of freedom fighters to the beats that stir the soul, art and politics have always had a close, sometimes combustible, relationship. Whether it’s through songs, paintings, poetry, or performances, the artist has long been the voice of resistance, a beacon of hope, and an amplifier of the people’s will. In Ghana, as in much of the world, art has both fought and fueled political causes, and its influence continues to reverberate through the corridors of power. But as with any powerful tool, there’s a fine line between art serving the people and art serving political agendas.
Art as a Weapon for Change:
Historically, artists have been at the forefront of political movements, using their work to question the status quo, provoke thought, and mobilize masses. Who can forget the revolutionary music of the 1980s, when Ghana’s musicians used their lyrics to challenge political oppression and demand change? In those turbulent times, songs weren’t just melodies; they were anthems for protest, a soundtrack to a generation’s fight for democracy. In Ghana and across the globe, music has been a significant voice for the marginalized, the oppressed, and the disillusioned. Whether it’s Bob Marley’s reggae rhythms pushing for social justice, or Fela Kuti’s Afrobeat challenging Nigeria’s military dictatorship, art has always had the power to push against authority. It’s not merely entertainment; it’s a call to action.
In Ghana, musicians like Sarkodie, A-Plus, Stonebwoy and Blakk Rasta have used their platforms to express the people’s frustrations. Music became a tool for political mobilization and societal change, connecting generations through shared struggles. These artists knew that with every note, every lyric, they could spark a movement.
Politicians Using Art to Mobilize:
But it’s not just the artists who have seen the power in art. Politicians, too, have long understood its potential as a strategic tool. Whether it’s through campaign jingles, concert rallies, or endorsements from celebrities, political campaigns have harnessed art to amplify their messages and win hearts and votes. From the days of President Kwame Nkrumah’s pan-African rhetoric to the NDC’s recent efforts in enlisting popular musicians for their campaigns, the union of politics and art is as old as the republic itself.
Think about the energy of those campaign concerts—sometimes more like a cross between a rally and a nightclub—where the air is thick with political slogans and the beat drops just as the party’s manifesto is being drummed into the minds of the youth. It’s no accident that music, which already holds sway over public sentiment, is used to consolidate political power. In the 2024 elections, we saw top-tier artists like Samini and Naceegetting involved, not just for the love of music, but to ensure their political allegiance was as loud and clear as their hits. It’s a formula that’s worked well for parties in the past, using the reach of popular music to transcend the barriers of traditional political discourse.
The Influence of Art on Politics (and Vice Versa)
Art’s relationship with politics is symbiotic. Art influences politics by shaping public opinion, reflecting societal mood, and offering new ways to view the world. Politicians, in turn, use art to control and communicate. The more vibrant and impactful the art, the more it shapes the political environment. In Ghana, the election season saw street murals, billboards with catchy slogans, and musical performances that were as much about political messaging as they were about entertainment. Politicians increasingly understand that they must tap into the creative economy to connect with voters—particularly the younger, more digitally-savvy generations who consume music and content at an unprecedented rate.
However, this fusion of art and politics comes with a heavy dose of responsibility. While it is powerful for musicians and artists to use their craft for the betterment of society, it is equally important that they do not allow themselves to be manipulated into pushing narrow political agendas that benefit a select few, rather than the collective good.
Walking the Fine Line
This brings us to the critical point: the need for a fine line between art and politics. Art, by its nature, should remain a tool for self-expression, for challenging norms, and for creating awareness. When it becomes too closely tied to the fortunes of a political party or an individual, it risks losing its integrity.
Consider Ghana’s history—remember the ban on nightlife and large concerts during the 1981 coup? The military government, concerned about the potential for mass mobilization, cracked down on entertainment, seeing it as a threat to their control. It’s a reminder of the dangers of blending entertainment and politics too intimately. Politicians may use art to energize their base, but once it crosses into coercion or censorship, it loses its power to serve the people.
Artists must remain vigilant, ensuring that their creativity serves society, not narrow political interests. They should continue to be vocal, using their craft as tools for social commentary and change—but always for the benefit of the people, and not to push selfish or divisive agendas.
The Power to Empower, Not Exploit
In the end, music, art, and entertainment are not just political weapons—they are instruments of empowerment. They can rally the masses, shift cultural narratives, and inspire change. But they also carry immense responsibility. Artists must be aware of the line between using their platform for societal good and being co-opted into a political machine. As the Ghanaian political landscape continues to evolve, we must remember that art’s true power lies in its ability to unite us, not divide us. The fine line between art and politics should not be a line of compromise, but a line of clarity—one that ensures creativity remains free, honest, and, most importantly, beneficial to all.
So, let the artists be the voices of the people, but let them also be the guardians of their own art, staying true to their craft and to the wider good.
(Story: Richmond Adu-Poku)