Konrad Bleyer-Simon: Emília, in your book, Working in Music on the Semiperiphery, you look at how authoritarian governments have used popular music as a means of control. Can you explain how that works? 

Emília Barna: I would make a distinction between the control of the music industry and the use of music as a form of political control, though of course the two are interrelated. First, there are forms of incorporation that aim to take control in a material sense – through occupying gatekeeping positions, as well as allocating money and managing resources. An example of this sort of control is establishing institutions to fund popular music. At the same time, ideological control can be seen as a more direct move towards an expectation of representing nationalism in an ethnicised sense. This could entail conservative ideas around heteronormative families and gender roles. 

Between 2010 and 2022, when I did my research in Hungary, I witnessed a gradual increase in ideological control – especially during the Covid- 19 pandemic and the ensuing economic downturn, as well as the energy crisis and the extremely high level of inflation. This polycrisis put musicians and other music industry workers into materially precarious and vulnerable positions and increased their dependence on political or state actors. In Hungary, this meant support was mostly provided to artists who were close to the government and often aligned with Fidesz’s ideology or discourse in their statements, appearances, and lyrics. At the same time, control of infrastructure, whether in festivals or venues, also increased. Finally, in 2014, Hungary also introduced a programme for funding popular music, which is significantly larger than any other similar schemes in the country. The programme marked a move towards professionalising, formalising, and legitimising the industry, including through education initiatives and music export. 

The Covid-19 polycrisis put musicians and other music industry workers into materially precarious and vulnerable positions and increased their dependence on political or state actors.

The first few months of the Covid-19 pandemic were among the most difficult periods for musicians and music industry workers, as the sector received virtually no support during the lockdown. In late 2020, support schemes were introduced, but funds were allocated selectively. In many cases, the government used music funding programmes as a means for active political campaigning. This was especially true for the 2021 autumn series of government-funded concerts, which basically provided opportunities for local Fidesz mayors and other politicians to take photographs on stage with musicians. 

This became part of the ruling party’s campaigning strategy in the lead-up to the 2022 elections. 

These examples show how music and the funding of artists were tied to political propaganda at a time when musicians and the workers catering to them behind the scenes were at their most vulnerable materially. 

How exactly does the use of music as a tool for political control manifest? 

Emília Barna: This is a topic that we researched together with Melanie Schiller and others. We saw that themes like nationalism, references to the homeland, the so-called traditional gender roles, a logic of crisis, and an “us versus them” narrative – which we associate with populism – are increasingly appearing as themes. These motifs make their way into lyrics along with nationalistic elements such as folk references. For instance, Hungary’s Fidesz government actively utilises artists and music during national holidays, commemorations, symbolic events, football matches, and school events and ceremonies. 

Melanie Schiller: The situation in the Netherlands, Sweden, and Germany – the countries where I conducted my research – differs from the Hungarian case. I would not call it control per se, but there are certain influences over musicians’ opportunities. A good example is the protests around Palestine and their implications for freedom of speech. A number of questions arise: Who is allowed to perform? What are artists allowed to say on stage? What are audiences allowed to bring into the concert venue? 

There is a significant difference between artistic and ordinary speech, and different legal frameworks exist for an artist voicing their criticism in a song or on stage as part of a performance. It is harder to regulate music and art than to set boundaries for general expressions of opinion. At the same time, there are more grey areas – especially regarding the limits of artistic speech and the authority to decide what can or cannot be said in art. For example, it is generally not up to the government or political actors to determine whether political expressions are allowed at a festival or whether national flags can be brought or displayed – it is up to the venue to decide that. In this context, it is also important to look at whether events are subsidised by the state or commercially driven. 

People tend to think of popular music as a market- supported product, while you are talking about subsidies as a source of vulnerability. What exactly is the role of subsidies in music production? 

Melanie Schiller: A student of mine, Sjoerd Baas, conducted research on the funding system for festivals in the Netherlands. He found that, like almost everywhere else, the country’s music industry has gone through a long period of neoliberalisation: there was less state funding available, and commercially driven festivals became more dominant over the years. He wanted to see whether there was a connection between the kind of funding provided and the kinds of political expressions welcome at these festivals. He found that state-funded festivals allowed much more freedom of political expression than the commercially driven ones. The reason is that commercially oriented festivals like to define themselves as a politics-free space, a place to have fun. At the same time, those that are partly subsidised through government funding see themselves more as a space of political negotiation and debate. I think that sounds very different from the Hungarian context. State funding in our case means more freedom of political critique and opposition, while Emília was talking about the opposite. 

Emília Barna: Not exactly the opposite, in the sense that the main commercial players or gatekeepers in live music are strongly politically connected, creating a link between the two spheres, at least in live music. After the Covid- 19 pandemic, however, many concert organisers disappeared from the market, and now the majority of live performances and festivals are organised by local governments and don’t charge entry fees. These include town or village days, wine festivals, and gastronomic-themed events. In our research project on the mainstreaming of populism and right-wing ideology through popular music, we found that these events were a very important space for spreading pro-government messages, because people who would normally not attend paid gigs would only have access to events of this kind. 

However, recorded music is entirely different due to the role of global platforms. Some of the young artists who are the most openly political – such as rapper Krúbi, who has actively criticised or even mocked the Hungarian government for close to a decade now, as well as a number of other artists who have recently emerged – make very efficient use of social media and music platforms. These musicians have a local industry network and a group of supporters that is partly independent from the major gatekeepers, such as large concert promoters. 

In Hungary, there has been a lot of talk about the politicisation of popular music, especially over the last summer, when fans chanted anti-government slogans and musicians made critical statements. What happened there? 

Emília Barna: I did not research this phenomenon, but it is possible that the media hype was somewhat exaggerated. There has definitely been an increase in the number of musicians articulating anti-government positions, but over the summer, the more radical political expressions tended to come from the audience rather than the musicians themselves. Some bands – or their management – weren’t comfortable with this. Whether and in what ways there has been a relevant shift in the political positioning of musicians in Hungary still needs to be researched. 

Far-right influence in popular music appears to be government imposed in the context that Emília describes. What does it look like in Western Europe? 

Melanie Schiller:  I did most of the research on this topic in Sweden. Here, populist music content comes out of right-wing cultures. For instance, the populist radical right party, the Sweden Democrats, is very musical; many of its members are musicians who regularly perform right-wing political songs. The most prominent among them is the party leader Jimmie Akesson. His band, Bedarande Barn (“Adorable Children”), is a wannabe hard rock/pop group with punk influences. Their lyrics are full of underdog narratives, nationalism, melancholia, nostalgia for a better past, and so on. In their case, we see literal performances of party politics through a musical medium. We also see that the party is using music or appropriating popular songs that are not per se political, giving them a new meaning through cover versions. Even though the lyrics are not changed, and the music might sound the same, the meaning changes drastically if you move the song from, for instance, a left-wing, queer, and feminist emancipatory context into a right–wing populist setting. That is a really powerful way in which right-wing populists are using music in Sweden. 

In the lead-up to the last national elections, members of the Sweden Democrats travelled around the country accompanied by musical performances. These political events, organised as a form of celebration, are one of the ways in which the radical right presents itself as an ordinary, fun, accessible, and harmless grouping that represents “normal” Swedish culture. In addition, the Sweden Democrats also attempt to influence music policy measures and funding schemes, with party members pointing out that elite culture – like opera – is heavily subsidised and is subject to lower taxes than the kind of popular music performed for “the people”. 

Live music is one of the ways in which the radical right presents itself as an ordinary, fun, accessible, and harmless grouping that represents “normal” Swedish culture.

Is the music that the Sweden Democrats perform considered mainstream, or is it something on the fringes? 

Melanie Schiller: The music that they themselves produce is niche. It may appear on the iTunes charts for a day or two, but it is not on the national charts and is not widely known in society. At the same time, they cover mainstream songs in their concerts that everyone can sing along to and recognise. So, they routinely politicise music. Finally, there is also a new genre called Epa dunk [associated with modified tractors and young people who drive them] that is mainstream but not explicitly aligned with radical right-wing populism – although it has many similar themes, like celebrating the countryside and a “normal” lifestyle. 

How is the far right’s use of music different in the Hungarian case? 

Emília Barna: In the 2000s, we saw the organic emergence and organisation of an extreme-right subculture with its own institutions, festivals, radio stations, and so on. This radical-right scene played a significant role in the emergence of the Jobbik party and later politically and culturally inspired Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz party. Over time, many of these acts moved from the fringes to the mainstream. The best example is the band Ismerős Arcok (“Familiar Faces”) and its song Nélküled (“Without You”), written in 2007, when the band was still part of an extreme right-wing subculture network. From a song initially known only in the national rock scene, it became a football anthem in the mid-2010s and is now considered as the quasi-second national anthem. It is sung by children at school ceremonies and played at weddings and is openly endorsed by the government. 

What do we know about the impact of popular music on voter behaviour? 

Melanie Schiller: There are only speculations on this topic, as the influences are very hard to isolate. Music is part of lifestyle, culture, and many other things. We cannot investigate whether listening to a particular song will change one’s party preferences. That is not how culture works. But when we consider music to be part of a larger cultural network – including the funding mechanisms and the policies that govern them – we can indeed say that music offers different ways of thinking about the world and allows listeners to connect with a variety of people, build other communities, and change discourses. It impacts what you can or cannot say, what is accepted, and what is normal. 

Emília Barna: agree that it is a very complex set of relations. One thing that we can definitely observe – and there is existing research on this – is that popular music helped organise the far-right subculture. 

Active participation in mainstream and underground music scenes and self – organisation (including establishing venues, small record labels, or niche radio stations) may also be considered a form of political education. This is especially true if we understand “political” more broadly: not just in terms of party politics but also as learning to take action, form or organise collective decisions, and implement decision-making processes. This is something that certainly existed in Hungary in the 2000s. 

It is very difficult to predict the influence of musicians expressing political opinions on party politics. Do these opinions just articulate a class position or a generational position? Or can they affect the audience’s preferences? All this is dependent on the coming together of various forces – a conjuncture, in Antonio Gramsci’s terms. In subculture research, for example, we are looking at the economic context, material reality, and the experience of political, state, and market control, and how these factors could radicalise certain groups of people. 

Melanie Schiller: In our research with Emília, we also observed that musicians or artists definitely have the power to set an agenda and move public media discourse in a certain direction. Again, this is something we have seen in the Netherlands recently, where musicians often make pro-Palestine statements on stage. The media also reports on these events, moving the discussion in a certain direction. It is impossible to measure whether this impacts voter behaviour. Still, when it comes to affecting the media discourse, I think musicians have a direct impact. 

Musicians or artists definitely have the power to set an agenda and move public media discourse in a certain direction.

What should progressive movements or parties do if they want to support critical and progressive-minded music? 

Melanie Schiller: Funding and support, as well as creating or saving spaces where subcultures can meet, mingle, and develop ideas – I think those would be the most important ones for me. 

Emília Barna: I would go back to the issue of musicians’ vulnerability and resilience. The material and working conditions of musicians – at least in Hungary, though I think this applies to most countries – are often precarious. There is significant inequality among musicians: a very small elite captures most of the revenue, while a struggling majority works for little or no pay. 

There is also a global competition that is amplified by digital platforms. In Hungary, this competition coincides with a rapid decline of local infrastructure, especially outside of Budapest. Hungarian musicians have to contend with a lack of alternative venues where they can play, as well as a web of informal dependencies – including on managers, promoters, venues, festivals, and so on. For this reason, political connections are also important for musicians to secure their livelihoods. Given these dependencies, I think creating spaces and providing infrastructure for relatively autonomous cultural expression and participation are crucial to supporting progressive-minded music. 

Melanie Schiller: I would also emphasise the importance of music education. Learning to play an instrument early on can have great value for a young person. It is paramount that music education is not something that only rich families can afford.  

In addition, I would call for the regulation of funding for music in the digital space, so that musicians can make a living from streaming, which has become one of the primary ways of consuming music. 

Despite its popularity, streaming generates minimal revenues for artists. It is, therefore, crucial to distribute streaming royalties more equally rather than allowing the majority of profits to end up in the pockets of major superstars like Taylor Swift. Today’s imbalanced constellation is not sustainable if we want to ensure a vibrant music culture. 

Do you think it is acceptable for a progressive party to involve musicians in the work of the party, invite bands to their political events, or have the leader of the political party take the stage and sing together with them? 

Emília Barna: I wouldn’t say this is desirable, and I don’t think it is the best path towards creating space for relatively autonomous cultural production. 

Melanie Schiller: I agree. The broader understanding of politics that Emília mentioned is much more important. What we ultimately need is openness and respect for each other, which can be conveyed through popular music. Inviting a band to perform at a party event would use music only as a functional soundtrack; it would not catalyse political change at the grassroots level.