Art, vandalism and resistance

THERE is no doubt that the mind of the rebel has found expression in art. Italian cultural Marxist Antonio Gramsci argued that since culture, including art, has been appropriated by the ruling elite capitalist class to make the oppressed consent to their oppression, then necessarily culture can also be used to take away that consent.

German cultural theorists Herbert Marcuse, Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, who all belonged to what has been referred to as the Frankfurt School, of culture, where mass communication and the technology of mechanical reproduction turned the “high art” of the classics into the “low art” of popular culture. They criticized how the culture industry enabled the ruling elites to demean and appropriate art to become a commodity that is used to create a one-dimensional, totally administered citizenry, whose consciousness of their capacity to change is severely eroded. They blamed an industry that made people abandon the museums and concert halls in favor of radios, movie houses and television sets for blunting critical thinking. When the “Mona Lisa,” a great work of art, is turned into a mere graphic design for doormats, t- shirts and jigsaw puzzles, the power of art to celebrate the human and enable critical transformation is seriously undermined.

But this view of art and culture was criticized by Walter Benjamin, and subsequently by critical cultural scholars, as elitist. Benjamin argued that what was labeled as low art also had redeeming potential to advance human freedom and liberation. Popular culture had the power to transgress dominant institutions and resist relations of domination. After all, those who are the most oppressed are not the people who could visit the Louvre in Paris, or watch “Les Miserables” in Broadway. They are the people who watch soap operas and listen to original Pinoy music.

It is true that formulaic soap operas with stereotyped characters and predictable plots can function to instill among citizens a kind of consciousness that legitimizes elite rule, by forcing them to acquiesce to or be numbed about the dominant and oppressive system. But it is also possible to use soap operas and other forms of popular art forms to cultivate the consciousness that would enable resistance not only to capitalist exploitation, but also to gender, racial and ethnic oppression.

It is well known in the history of revolution and resistance that art has been appropriated as enabling symbolisms for the struggles of the oppressed. Revo street theater and cartoons have been used to challenge and take down dominant oppressive practices. Mikhail Bakhtin offered us the metaphor of the carnivalesque as an appropriate platform to use satire, parody, laughter and humor to be the base of critical engagements against oppressive practices not only of governments but also those experienced by ordinary citizens in their daily lives. French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss highlighted the role that creativity plays in the emergence of new modes of social engagement, which he termed as “bricolage.”

It is this combination of satire

and creativity, of carnivalesque and bricolage that enabled Filipinos to create cultural constructs that take the character of social criticism. We see this in comedy bars, in our weird sense of humor, in Willie Nepomuceno’s parody of different presidents, and in the sometimes satirical social commentaries of “Bubble Gang.” Ali Sotto, Arnold Clavio and Joel Reyes Zobel turn their political commentaries into creative melodies in their morning radio show on DZBB. And we see this in the internet memes that explode in social media.

There is no doubt that art has become the bearer of resistance, social commentary and political criticism. This was seen in Rizal’s novels and Juan Luna’s paintings, as it is now articulated in popular expressions of art.

The question now is whether group Panday Sining painted on the walls of Lagusnilad is a valid form of protest art, or if it is simply vandalism. The group, while apologizing for the act, nevertheless resistance. Its supporters decry the sense of balance of people who by what they allege as the wanton violation of human rights by the Duterte administration.

What is entirely missed by both sides is that the legality or acceptability of protest art is not devoid of context. Art that is used in the context of resistance will always face the risk of retribution. It will remain the target of censorship. Rizal was persecuted because of his novels. A fatwa was issued by Islamic authorities worldwide against novelist Salman Rushdie. Those who deploy protest art must realize that they will always transgress established norms and authority, and as such will always face the risk of being targeted for state and institutional reprisal. The Alpha Phi Omega fraternity can run butt naked inside the University of the Philippines’ campuses, or student graduates can mount - tion rites, as creative expressions, simply because these have already been normalized as part of UP culture. It would be different if Lasallites were to run naked inside the Taft campus or mount International Convention Center during graduation rites.

In the end, the debate whether or vandalism is actually a nondebate. For those who are into protest art, it is art. But for those in authority, it is vandalism. Hence, for the latter it warrants punitive action. For those who resist authority, being punished for it should be taken as a validation of their politics. They succeeded in getting noticed.

The problem arises when those who use art to transgress rules and challenge authority demand that they be freely tolerated. They reduce protest art to being simply the message, without the impact. They fail to realize that the power of protest lies not just in the words that are said or imaged, but also in getting the desired outcome of irritating the establishment.