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Cultural expression frequently serves as a lens to the conditions,
historical and contemporary, of a society. Film, music, and literature often
serve as an extension of oral traditions and can provide us not only with a
glimpse into history but can also share with us the cultural impact of the past
and give us a greater understanding of the present. In the countries of Brazil
and Jamaica with similar histories of oppression, from slavery, to genocide,
to crushing poverty and systemic racism, it is not surprising to see a similarity
in the heightened consciousness in their music. Through analysis of the histories
of Brazil and Jamaica, from slavery to the institutionalized systems of oppression,
one can understand how such seemingly different musical traditions frequently
share a common theme, resistance. "
a good part of the attraction of reggae music to its metropolitan
audience is the anger and protest of the lyrics. We obviously face a contradiction
between the message of urban poverty and protest which reggae conveys and that
of pleasure and relaxation inherent in our holiday product. In short, when we promote reggae music we are promoting an aspect of
Jamaican culture which is bound to draw attention to some of the harsher circumstances
of our lives." -- Jamaica Tourist Board Memorandum, October 10, 1975 (Davis and Simon,
1977, p. 1) Jamaican reggae is music of protest that carries an angry message
of poverty. Listeners worldwide often simply enjoy the swaying upbeats and melodies
of reggae while giving little thought to the importance of the lyrics or the
harsh circumstances that have given birth to the music. Similarly,
the music of Brazil has been neglected. Musical prejudices commonly lead to
the association of subtle rhythms and light, casual melodies with bland music
and not profound expression (Byrne, 1989, p. 2-3). However, the music of both
cultures caries with them strong traditions of resistance. They both pay homage
to their leaders and mythic figures and work to carry on in their tradition
of resistance. The Maroon States In contrast to the thirteen colonies which were to become the
United States of America, which were colonized by settlers seeking a new life
in the West, the majority of the new world colonies were established to be financial
ventures based on the exploitation and exportation of natural resources and
the running of massive plantations. In Brazil, there was no effort to settle
the land in the same sense as in North American. While the northern settlers
brought wives, few women traveled to Brazil. To support their efforts, the colonial
population of Brazil was augmented through the mestiçagem (miscegenation)
with indigenous women. The Portuguese essentially monopolized the slave trade,
bringing approximately three and a half million African slaves to Brazil through
the Middle Passage, six times the number to arrive in the United States and
the single largest slave contingent in the New World (Stam, 1997, p. 4, 26,
44). Both the Brazilian and Jamaican colonies developed into commercial territories
built on slave labor. However, Jamaica is a rough island, "the stone the builder
refused." The difficult geography and dense forests thwarted the efforts
of the imperial powers to tame the island. The wild hill country was a beckoning
sanctuary for the enslaved Africans working on the plantations. The Spaniards,
fleeing from English conquest of the island in 1655, sailed from the island,
leaving their slaves behind. Rather than idly await a new master, the slaves
sought freedom in the hills. These escaped slaves became the Maroons of Jamaica
(Barrett, 1988, p. 30). Under the leadership of Juan de Bolas, the Jamaican Maroons
engaged in skirmishes with the British in defending their territory. The colonial
powers saw the Maroons as an obstacle to the profitable running of the island;
not only were the Maroons impeding the expansion of the colony, their freedom
enticed slaves to flee the plantations to join their brethren in the hills.
After eight years of hostile cohabitation of the island, the British courted
Juan de Bolas, offering him peace and a military title. The Maroons, however,
did not trust the British offer and slaughtered their leader (Barrett, 1988,
p. 31). The Maroon guerilla war with the British continued for another
seventy-five years. During this period, the Maroons grew in number with the
steady exodus of "irrepressible spirits" within the Coromantee slaves.
An Ashanti family rose out of the new Maroons to become prominent leaders. Cudjoe
and Quaco became political and military leaders of the Maroons. Meanwhile, another
group of Maroons from the east side of the island became organized under the
mythical Nanny (of whom it is said that her broad hips were capable of knocking
over whole lines of British troops). These legendary figures led decades of
brutal campaigns against the British. It was truly a guerilla war, resorting
to sudden and swift attacks and cunning ambushes. The Maroons provided a consistent
rebellion that eventually drew the British to the bargaining table to sue for
peace again in 1738. After decades of hostility, the war-weary British and Maroons
eventually agreed to a treaty, signed March 1, 1738. While the treaty guaranteed
peace and granted land to the Maroons, it came at a great price to the burgeoning
movement of resistance. The treaty subjugated the Maroons, turning them into
an unpaid army for the colonial power. Following the signing of the treaty,
the Maroons served in this role, suppressing the slave population from which
they came (Barrett, 1988, p. 36). Brazil, like Jamaica, represented a geographical challenge
to the imperial colonists. Even to this day, a majority of the country remains
untamed and over 90% of the population lives strictly along the
coastline. Sometime before 1606, escaped slaves made their way from the plantations
of Alagoas and Pernambuco and fled to the interior, seeking sanctuary in the
forested coastal mountains. The runaway slaves established a quilombo
(maroon state) in a region that came to be known as Palmares (Anderson,
1996, p. 550-1). "[T]he most apparent significance of Palmares to African
history is that an African political system could be transferred to a different
content; that it could come to govern not only individuals from a variety of
ethnic groups from Africa, but also those born in Brazil, pitch black or almost
white, latinized or close to Amerindian roots; and that it could endure for
almost a full century against two European powers, Holland and Portugal."
(Kent, 1965, p. 163) Not only was Palmares capable of surviving the ongoing invasions
of Holland and Portugal, but it was able to experience a period of prosperity
throughout which the Palmarinos lived with dignity and harmony. Palmares served
as an early model for a utopian republic (Stam, 1997, p. 41) based on fraternal
equality (Freitas, 1982, p. 210). The story of Palmares even lead historian
Oliveira Martins to state, "Of all of the historical examples of slave
protest, Palmares is the most beautiful, the most heroic. It is a black Troy,
and its story is an Iliad" (Freitas, 1982, p. 64). The history of the quilombo
has become a romantic tale of a society that many modern Brazilians seek to
restore. The mocambos (maroon settlements or towns, from Kimbundu
mukambo, hide-out) of Palmares were initially established
by a trickle of runaway slaves. However, the area soon became home to increasing
number of slave refugees from the Dutch invasion of northeastern Brazil in the
1630s. During the Dutch occupation, there were several efforts to probe into
Palmares, none with any notable success. However, during the brief reign of
the Dutch, the Portuguese presented a greater threat that eventually led to
the expulsion of the Dutch from Pernambuco in 1654. Nevertheless, several of
the Dutch incursions provide an early glimpse into the development of Palmares.
During the Blaer-Reijmbach expedition of 1645 the area was dominated by at least
one large mocambo. This mocambo was a settlement of 220 buildings
including four smithies and a council house. The whole settlement was fortified
by double palisade with a spike-lined trough and was inhabited by approximately
1,500 Palmarinos (Anderson, 1996, p. 551-2). This early quilombo was also home to several other smaller
settlements throughout the region. Palmares, aside from being militantly defensive,
was also productive. During the twenty-seven years of internecine peace following
expulsion of the Dutch, the Palmarinos traded with their Portuguese neighbors,
frequently trading foodstuffs and crafts for arms and ammunition. Trade was
so extensive that many of the colonials of the region opposed war with the Palmarinos,
preferring the idea of granting sovereignty to Palmares in order to bring peace
(Anderson, 1996, p. 552). Palmares provided sanctuary for any of the refugees or outcasts
of the colony, openly welcoming natives, mestiços, renegade whites, Jews,
Muslims and heretics. Most critical to the Governor was the sanctuary provided
for runaway slaves, a constant lure for the forced labor of the plantations.
As well, Palmares served as an obstacle to the further expansion of the Portuguese
colony and was a challenge to the white, European supremacy of the territory
(Stam, 1997, p. 42-1). In response, the Portuguese waged continued military
campaigns from the mid-1670s until the final conquest of Palmares in 1694 (Anderson,
1996, p. 552-3, 563). At its peak, the population of Palmares was estimated to be
roughly 20,000 strong (Stam, 1997, p. 41); a Brazilian quilombo based
on the Angolan kilombo. Kilombo was originally a male military
society in Angola. During the seventeenth century, Angola was in constant military
turmoil. The coast was occupied by the Portuguese and dominated by slave trade,
while neighboring African nation-states were constantly putting military pressure
on the area through numerous invasions. The diverse people of central Angola
came together under the name Imbangala and formed a lineageless
society in order to integrate the numerous cultures. In order to cope with the
constant military conflict and political upheaval of the region, the Imbangala
instituted kilombo, which they found to be a unifying social paradigm
for a people under constant military alert. Amongst the burgeoning population
of Palmares, there were numerous descendants of Angolan slaves and possibly
recent arrivals of the Imbangala, leading to their naming of the region Angola
Janga, Little Angola (Anderson, 1996, p. 558-9). The Portuguese launched their campaign for the destruction
of the quilombo with an invasion led by militia captain Fernão
Carrilho. Carrilhos campaign of 1676-7, while devastating, also provides
one of the few recorded primary accounts of the region. At the time of the invasion,
Palmares was dominated by several mocambos including Zambi, Acotierene,
Tabocas, Dambrabanga, Subupira, the royal compound of Macaco, Osenda, Amaro
and Andalaquituche. Macaco was home to the Palmarino king, Ganga-Zumba, Great
Lord. The whole compound was fortified, surrounded by a palisade with
embrasures, a perimeter of iron caltrops and pitfalls and was comprised of more
than 1,500 houses. As well, the compound had a chapel, complete with statues
of the baby Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and Saint Blaise. While overtly a Christian
structured, the Palmarinos practiced a syncretism of Christian and African beliefs.
The capital of Palmares, however, was not the training ground for their warriors.
The town of Subupira, under the governance of Zona, Ganga-Zumbas brother,
was the staging ground for assaults against the Portuguese. This mocambo
of over 800 houses, much like the capital, was fortified with wood and stone
as well as a perimeter of caltrops and pitfalls (Anderson, 1996, p. 553-5). The quilombo of Palmares was well-fortified Maroon state
of fiercely capable and determined people. Through guerilla warfare and military
vigilance, the Palmarinos were able to withstand the direct Portuguese onslaught
for over a decade. However, in 1678, the battle-wounded and war-weary chief
Ganga-Zumba, accepted the terms of peace offered by the governor of Pernambuco.
These terms of peace granted the sovereignty of the Palmarinos in exchange for
the return of fugitive slaves and relocation from Palmares to the Cucaú
Valley, closer to the scrutiny of the governor (Anderson, 1996, p. 563). However, the treaty signed by Ganga-Zumba did not bring peace
to the Palmarinos. A faction led by Captain Zumbi and other rebels
opposed relocation from Palmares. In 1680, Ganga-Zumba was killed in a palace
revolt led by Zumbi. Ganga-Zumbas death came by poison, either from Zumbi
or his faction or by the African practice of sanctioned regicide, the grave
penalty for weakness or abuse of power. Zumbi reunited the Palmarinos under
his authority and immediately prepared for a new war against the Portuguese
(Anderson, 1996, p. 563). The Portuguese responded to the breaking of the treaty with
the enlistment of Bush Captain Domingos Jorge Velho. Velho and his
irregulars joined the Portuguese militia force raised in the Northeast to prepare
for a new assault on Palmares in 1692. The initial thrust was rejected and a
new expeditionary force, augmented with new troops, was gathered in Porto Calvo
in late 1693. This force eventually reached the capital of Macaco in early 1694
and laid siege to the royal compound for 22 days. On February 5th,
1694 the Palmarinos abandoned the fortifications of the mocambo, either
to attack from the rear or flee through a break in the line of attackers. The
battle over the next two days lead to the death of over 500 and the capture
of another 500 Palmarinos (Anderson, 1996, p. 563-4). At the end of the battle,
only women and children remained, many of whom chose to starve themselves to
death rather than return to slavery (Stam, 1997, p. 43). Zumbi escaped death at the battle in Macaco and continued to
harass the Portuguese for over a year. However, late in 1695, one of his aides
revealed his location to the Portuguese. Zumbi and his band of rebels were killed
in the resulting ambush on November 20th, 1695. His body was taken
to Porto Calvo for identification and his head later sent to Recife, the capital
of Pernambuco. In Recife, the head of the "black Spartacus" was publicly
displayed until it decomposed as proof against the claims of Zumbis immortality
(Anderson, 1996, p. 564; Stam, 1997, p.43). Refugees from Palmares continued their resistance, despite
the death of their leader. Another quilombo was formed in Paraibe, called
Cumbe. Cumbe successfully repelled numerous attacks before eventually being
destroyed in 1731. Resistance in the area continued until 1797, almost two centuries
after the refugee settlement of Palmares (Stam, 1997, p. 43). The region, even
in the 20th century, has been an area of sporadic resistance, including
several rebellious insurgencies during the totalitarian military regime of the
1960s and 70s. To this day, Zumbi, the last leader of the quilombo
of Palmares, is popularly regarded as a national hero. The day of Zumbiss
death, November 20th, is a national holiday, celebrated with numerous
commemorative festivals. Initially called Zumbi Day, the holiday was rebaptized
"National Black Consciousness Day" in 1978. In 1995, on the tercentenary
of Zumbis death, or popularly recognized as the tercentenary of his immortality,
carnaval chose to celebrate the mythic leader of Palmares. As well, numerous
other events, including President Fernando Henrique Cardoso speaking in the
Municipal Hall in União dos Palmares, the Congresso Continental dos Povos
Negros das Américas in São Paulo, and the Movimento Negro Unificados
march of Brasília (Anderson, 1996, p. 545-7), underscored the cultural
importance of Zumbi. There is even a movement proposing that the commemoration
of the end of slavery on May 13, 1888 (the day Princess Isabel signed the Lei
Áurea, the Golden Law, enacting the emancipation) be replaced with the
celebration of National Black Consciousness Day (Stam, 1997, p. 44). The quilombos of Brazil are national symbols of black
resistance. Half a million descendants of the Palmarinos were ceded land in
Palmares by the quilombo clause of the recent Constitution. The clause
has long been supported by contemporary musical groups from Bahia, including
Olodum and Ilê Aiyê, with lyrics such as: Quilombo, here we are My only debt is to the quilombo My only debt is to Zumbi Additionally, black activist Paulinho da Viola founded a black
consciousness carnaval group, the Quilombo Samba School (Stam, 1997,
p. 44). Palmares was even the focus of major feature-fiction films, Ganga
Zumba (1963) and Quilombo (1984), and a recent TV miniseries, Zumbi,
O Rei dos Palmares (Zumbi: King of Palmares) (Stam, 1997, p. 41). Modern
cinema and music have shown that the spirit of the quilombos and their
leaders lives on in the hearts of much of Brazil. Sewing the Seeds of Systemic Subjugation Rarely in the New World did emancipation bring peace and prosperity
for all blacks. The white plutocracy was loath to give moral and fiscal equality
to people who had once been their slaves. In Jamaica, the abolition of slavery
in 1834 threw the island into turmoil, while the Imperial Government aspired
to incorporate freed slaves into the colony with an apprentice system, the Planters
resented the orders from England and the slaves desired to simply work their
provision grounds and enjoy their new found freedom (Barrett, 1988, p. 51). The emancipation of the slaves in Jamaica ceded no land to
the blacks. Essentially overnight, the slaves were homeless and jobless, given
the choice to either return to the plantations and work for substandard wages
or to fend for themselves as best as they saw fit. Of the 400,000 slaves freed,
only 30,000 returned to the plantations to work and a handful integrating into
the marketplaces in the towns and cities. The remaining 370,000 became destitute,
turning to foraging for their meals. Unemployment became the subject of debate,
frequently attributed to the mismanagement of the islands economy by the
government. A pointed letter sent by Edward Underhill in 1865 to Englands
Secretary of the State for the Colonies addressed the dire situation on the
island: I shall say nothing of the course taken by the Jamaica
Legislature; of their abortive immigration bills; of their unjust taxation
of the coloured population; of their refusal of just tribunals; of their
denial of political rights to the emancipated Negroes. Underhill saw that the continuing paradigm of monoculture plantations
was an underlying root cause of the economic and, accordingly, the social strife
impacting the island (Barrett, 1988, p. 56-7). Underhill also saw that under
the leadership of Governor Eyre, the island would continue to be economically
depressed and the blacks socially oppressed. These factors, he believed, would
ultimately lead to conflict unless the course of governance was changed (Barrett,
1988, p. 57). The conditions on the island did eventually precipitate conflict,
bringing attention both to the plight of the blacks and the heavy-handed tactics
of the governor. On October 7th, 1865, a small army of two hundred
men led by Paul Bogle marched on Morant Bay. More a demonstration than an assault,
Bogle and his men only roughed up a few police officers and the
group eventually dissipated back to their homes in the hills. Three days later,
Bogle and his army struck the town of Morant Bay, killing eighteen, including
a prominent plantation owner. The army marched on, taking the town of Bath on
the 12th. However, Governor Eyre was making preparations for confronting
Bogles rebellion and declared martial law the following day. As well,
the Maroons, abiding by their treaty, joined Governor Eyres forces against
Bogle and his men. The courts of martial law, under Eyres direction, proceeded
to accuse, convict, and execute citizens believed to be possible obstructions
to the government. The militia, fifteen hundred strong, bolstered by the Maroons
and the executions of the martial courts crushed the rebellion with the killing
of close to a thousand people and the razing of over a thousand cottages while
there were no recorded deaths of soldiers or militia men outside of the initial
eighteen at Morant Bay (Barrett, 1998, p. 61-3). While the Morant Bay rebellion ended with a crushing blow against
Bogle and his supporters, it brought to attention the powder keg situation that
the islands socioeconomic situation and political oligarchy presented.
Planters and politicians were ever fearful of another uprising. The aftershocks
of the rebellion precipitated the declaration of Crown Colony status only months
later (Barrett, 1988, p. 63). The Morant Bay rebellion brought about the end (or at least,
significant curtailing) of overt hostilities between whites and blacks on the
island. This gave way to an institutionalized oppression of the population through
socioeconomic exploitation. During Jamaicas Crown Colony era from 1865
to 1962, the few local industries of the island, from cane to bauxite, were
exploited to strip the resources of the island and never return the wealth generated.
The labor force of Jamaica recognized the exploitation, leading to rage tempered
with the "consciousness of nationality" preached by Black leaders
such as Marcus Garvey. The result was violent labor uprisings in Westmoreland,
Kingston and Spanish Town in 1938. The loss of life from the clash between the
laborers and the armed police response drew the attention of the imperial government.
The report of labor uprisings in the Crown Colony led to the development of
a new constitution directed towards the eventual self-governance of the island
(Barrett, 1988, p. 63-5). The racism found in North America, including Jamaica and the
United States, is a binary form, frequently pitting non-whites against whites
or an unsympathetic government. In contrast, Brazil has developed a racial hegemony
based on a spectrum of racial climes and lateral conflict amongst non-whites.
Perpetuated since the practice mestiçagem in the initial colonization
of Brazil, racial hegemony supplanted scientific racism, becoming the devious
paradigm for oppressing a near racial majority. The first wave of mestiçagem in the New World
colony of Brazil may have come about by necessity, in response to the comparatively
small numbers of European women, but it did also bring about a means by which
the Europeans could diffuse the tension of their intended ethnic supremacy.
Mestiçagem combined with the native practice of cunhadismo,
the incorporation of strangers into a community by providing wives, generated
the mass of the colonial population. The resultant mamelucos, the racially
mixed descendants of the union of Europeans and natives, became an ambivalent
intermediate between the Europeans and the natives. The colonists took advantage
of the mamelucos facility with native customs and the environment and
utilized them as expeditionary forces to expand the Lusitanian-dominated territories.
However, this put them at a mutual conflict with the natives from which they
descended. While sometimes the mamelucos allied with the indigenous populations,
they frequently allied with the whites. Ultimately, the mamelucos, victims
of "cultural disjunction", spread their ambivalence throughout Brazil.
They were often torn between their allegiances to their indigenous counterparts,
whom they frequently scorned, and their allegiances to the white Europeans,
who despised them. In a sense, the mamelucos were the first victims of
the "ideology of whitening" (Stam, 1997, p. 3-5). The African slaves were also victims of ethnic division. The
slave dealers of Brazil frequently bestowed arbitrary ethnic labels to groups
of imported slaves. The slave owners would maintain these ethnic distinctions
hoping to promote rivalries between the so-called African "nations"
as a means to prevent slave resistance. Ethnic division amongst non-whites in
Brazils continued on another level: between Creoles and Africans. The constitution
of the 19th century permitted the naturalization of Brazilian-born
slaves as second-class citizens while Africans were not given similar opportunities.
This is an indicator of the greater social value given to Creoles over Africans
by the free Brazilians. Unlike Jamaica, where blacks and mulattos fought side
by side in rebellions, Brazilian rebellions were often segregated, as in the
1837 Sabinada Rebellion where only Creole slaves were permitted to fight. As
a result of this racial caste system, animosity grew between the Creoles and
the Africans. While the Creole-African rivalry did not overstep family ties,
it was still powerful enough to impede uprising, to the benefit of the planters
(Kraay, 1998, p. 12-13). Following emancipation, Brazilians were left searching for
a new paradigm of European supremacy to replace slavery. While many politicians
and thinkers proposed scientific racism, with binary segregation, Brazil inevitably
returned to mestiçagem. Scholars saw the amalgamation of race
through the process of whitening to be the solution for issues of race in Brazil
(Kraay, 1998, p. 16). Within the new racial spectrum pardos (people of
mixed race) typically receive a higher social status than pretos (descendants
of Africans). The abandonment of formal racial discrimination gave a handful
of pardos the opportunity to rise into the social elite by rejecting
their racial identity. Rarely do the handfuls of upper-class mulattos identify
themselves as anything other than white, having utilized the "mulatto escape
hatch." Many modern historians see these individuals as "tormented
figures forced to deny or reject their racial identity to participate in white
upper-class society." With the ascension of a handful of non-whites into
the predominantly white upper class, Brazilian aristocrats are able to maintain
that their country is a "racial democracy" (Kraay, 1998, p. 18). The Modern Socio-Economic Stage Despite more than a century of self-determinism, both Brazil
and Jamaica maintain conditions of social and economic disparity. Both countries
are still dominated by an aristocratic white upper class intent on maintaining
their prosperity with little concern for the predominantly non-white poor. Slums
and shantytowns encircle the metropolises of Jamaica and Brazil. For many the
color of their skin assures their place in society and for a great many non-whites,
a place in the lower echelons. The condition of the non-whites in Brazil and
Jamaica is summed up by Bongo Syllys comment to author Stephen Davis:
"You should not say that Jamaica is full of happy folks or fookery like
that. Write it out that were in pain here. Ras clot! Write it out
that we are in prison and we want to go home" (Davis and Simon, 1977, p.
60). Jamaica and Brazil have established façades of happiness and pleasure
to support their tourist industries while sweeping the overwhelming poverty
and despair under the rug. The efforts of the Jamaican government since independence have
had a slim impact on the plight of the lower class. Fiscal reform, while having
curbed inflation and stabilized the exchange rate, has failed to compensate
for the collapse of the bauxite industry in the 1970s. In 1992, 32.4% of the
country lived below the poverty line and the economy was continuing on its downward
spiral. The growth of the gross domestic product decreased from 1.5% in 1992
to 0.5% and the GDP posted a 1.4% decrease in 1996 and a subsequent 2% decrease
in 1998. The country is also plagued with a US$1.1 billion trade deficit and
a US$1.39 billion government spending deficit, further complicated with high
interest rates (CIA, 1999). The end product of the floundering Jamaican economy
is the increase of the urban poor, a population either unemployed or underpaid.
The economic situation in Jamaica is exemplified in Trench Town, a shantytown
built in a system of municipal trenches, and best characterized by the quality
of life illustrated in The Harder They Come. The economic situation for non-whites in Brazil is similarly
desperate. In 1987, the median salary for whites was two and a half times that
of blacks. The World Bank eventually declared the economic disparity "the
most unequal distribution of income in the world" (Stam, 1997, p. 46-7).
Furthermore, the economy as a whole was failing. In 1994, inflation soared to
over 1,000%, devastating the meager savings of the lower and middle class (CIA,
1999). While the upper class was able to maintain wealth in hard foreign currency,
the majority of the population was bankrupted by the loss of value of their
money. The Plano Real, instituted in mid-1994, did eventually bring inflation
under control, dropping it to 2% in 1998. However, the shockwaves of the Russian
debt default threw Brazil into another economic decline leading to 50% interest
rate hikes. In two months, US$30 billion of capital left Brazil spearheading
a trend of global economic withdrawal. However, the plight of Brazil is not solely economic. Brazilian
non-whites are also the victims of racial hegemony, perpetuated by deep-seated
social inequalities, racial dissolution, and police violence. Brazilian culture
is a paradox in which some Afro-Brazilian traditions become national symbols,
such as carnaval, and others become the targets of violent eradication
campaigns, such as candomblé and capoeira. While a select
few fight for racial identity and pride, most ascribe to the ideology of whitening.
As the issues of racism in Brazil are complex and often subtle, those who work
to affect change are hampered by general ignorance and apathy from the majority
of the population. The issues of race in Brazil often go unseen or are misread.
In the 1950s, the self-proclaimed "racial democracy" of Brazil was
hailed as so successful that the United Nations sponsored research on "race
relations" to ascertain how Brazil escaped the overt racial tensions that
plagued much of the world. The apparent socio-economic disparity was attributed
to class, despite significant correlations between class and race (Kraay, 1998,
p. 18). Kim D. Butler notes that Brazilian racism is not so much an overt effort
against blacks but against black culture, giving way to both the cultural and
phenotypic whitening of Brazil (Kraay, 1998, p. 20). Candomblé, the popular and widespread Afro-Brazilian
religion that is prominent in the Brazilian state of Bahia (often viewed as
the black heart of Brazil), has been a persecuted practice for centuries. Candomblé
practitioners were frequently the targets of police violence in unofficial eradication
campaigns. For a period of time into the 1930s, candomblé grew
despite waning pressure. Politicians in Bahia eventually turned to candomblé
leaders as electoral brokers. However, the violent rise to power of Getúlio
Vargas and the proclamation of his Estado Novo dictatorship brought an end to
the fleeting period of tolerance towards Afro-Brazilian culture. Scholars studying
candomblé were exiled for complacency towards to the Afro-Brazilian
communist threat and police violence was back on the rise (Kraay
1998, p. 21-2, 57). It was not until the end of the dictatorship in 1945 that the
Afro-Brazilian cultural organization could recommence. In 1949, candomblé
re-emerged from obscurity with the formation of the afoxé (Carnival
society) Filhos de Gandhi (Sons of Gandhi) which brought the rhythms and sounds
of candomblé back to the masses. The 1970s saw the emergence of
Brazils first modern black movement, spearheaded by the Movimento Negro
Unificado Contra a Discriminação Racial (Unified Black Movement
against Racial Discrimination, abbreviated to Movimento Negro Unificado or MNU)
in 1978. The first bloco afro (Afro-centric Carnival society) Ilê
Aiyê, founded in 1974, brought the message of black pride to the streets
during festivities (Kraay, 1998, p. 22). While it was initially criticized as
racist, as many other Afro-Brazilian organizations have been, Ilê Aiyê
has become a fundamental component of Carnival. As well, the society has also
started social and educational programs in the poor and predominantly black
neighborhood where it is based. Other societies like Olodum have followed in
the tradition of Ilê Aiyê, drawing attention to the poverty in the
slums and working to affect change in their communities and the nation as a
whole. The system of oppression not only sought to deprive Afro-Brazilians
of their culture but to deprive them of economic, social and political power.
Illiteracy runs rampant, accounting for 40% of non-whites, twice the rate of
whites. Only 1% of blacks identify themselves as patrãos (bosses/owners)
while 79% of whites identify themselves as such. As well, non-whites filled
only a dozen of the 559 parliamentary seats, many of which did not support black
causes (Stam, 1997, p. 51-2). The general absence black representation in the
upper echelons of society and government sets a standard of white superiority
in Brazil. Despite the constant reiteration of the racial democracy, skin
color invariably dictates your social status. In "High Tech Violence",
Disciplina Urbana sings that the police: Go up into the favelas Invade your home Without shame And the treatment you receive Will depend on the color of your skin. However, while the violence committed by the police and paramilitary
is frequently against blacks and mulattos, those who commit the violence may
also be people of color. The lack of clarity in the violence permits it to be
dismissed as class based and not a part of the system of racial oppression (Stam,
1997, p. 54-5). In the system of direct and inferential racism, the popularity
of black pride is suppressed. Many choose to follow the apparent route of self-whitening
in order to maintain or improve their social condition. A recent survey showed
that nearly half of all blacks agree with the statement that a "good black
is the black with a white soul." As Michael Hanchard said, "Racial
hegemony has effectively neutralized racial identification among non-whites"
(Stam, 1997, p. 48). The continued miseducation of the population cements the
precepts of racial hegemony in Brazilian society. The system of racism is so extensive that it, as Carlos Hasenbalg
stated, "permeates every stage of the life cycle of blacks and mestiços.
It is in the family, the first socializing unit; it is in the schools
it
is in the labor market, in police violence. It affects all of daily life."
If "the white mans greatest crime was to make the black man hate
himself," as Malcom X proclaims, it was done so in Brazil through the pervasive
institutionalization of racism. This system of oppression has convinced almost
half of polled Brazilian blacks that "blacks are only good at music and
sports" (Stam, 1997, p. 48-50). Through racial hegemony, Brazilian society
has diffused the overt tension of binary racism while maintaining black inferiority
as the ad hoc standard. The Music of Jamaica and Brazil The music profession is one of the few in Jamaica and Brazil
in which a person can become popular and financially successful without sacrificing
cultural identity. As such, it seems that an underground culture percolates
through society rising to popularity, telling a story that otherwise goes unheard.
Reggae brings the harsh message of the streets and the slums out of obscurity
in a stark contrast to the calypso that typically assails the tourists. As well,
Afro-Brazilian music, often subtle, brings a similar message to the masses.
Jamaican roots reggae, in its purest form, free of the slack
that is frequently found on the airwaves, documents the struggles of the impoverished
commoner. There is the constant fight against oppression, joblessness, hunger,
and the lack of opportunity on the island. It is a music that shares the tales
of the suffering in the ghettos, repatriation to Africa, worship of Haile Selassie
as a deity, and the pressures of living with the shackles of slavery in Babylon
(Barrow and Dalton, 1997, p. 129). Roots is best exemplified by Bob Marley,
the late musical prophet of the Rastafarians. "Crazy Baldheads" spoke
of the continued oppression of the blacks in Jamaica; once exploited as slaves,
they are now exploited as free men. Songs like "Exodus" carry the
message of Africanism and repatriation of Ethiopia as the final solution. Recently, many dancehall artists are returning to roots traditions.
While slack is still common, many musicians see their position as an opportunity
to vocalize the resistance to the oppression in the neighborhoods they come
from. Buju Bantons "Til Im Laid to Rest" perhaps best
summarizes the plight of the Jamaican Rastafarian:Oppression and Resistance in
Jamaican Reggae and
Afro-Brazilian Music
A Comparative Study of Race in Music and Culture
Michael R. Dávila
'Til I'm laid to rest
Yes, always be depressed
There's no living in the West
So, I know the East is the best
Lord, the propaganda them spread
Tongues will haffi confess
Oh, I'm in bondage living is a mess
And I've got to rise up alleviate the stress
No longer will I expose my weakness
He who seek knowledge begins with humbleness
Work 7 to 7 yet me still penniless
All the food upon my table Massa God Bless
Holler fi the needy and shelterless
Ethiopia awaits all prince and princess
Buju Banton preaches rising up against the economic despair of Jamaica, against the exploitation of the poor, and ultimately expatriation as the final solution.
Even in the United States, reggae coupled with Rastafarianism has taken root and begun to bear fruit. Artists like the dub-stylist Dr. Israel and the products of Lloyd Barnes temper the traditions of their Jamaican counterparts with their own inner-city experiences. Dr. Israel shares the strife of inner-city Philadelphia in "Armigideon Time":
I said enough of people cant get no supper tonight
I said enough of people cant get no justice tonight
But theyll remember to praise Jah-hoviah
In this iration,
This armigideon time
All over Israel and we cant get no supper tonight
All over Israel and we cant get no justice tonight
As the battle
Waging harder
Jah will guide-I
To armigideon time
Dr. Israels song is one of many that draw attention to the poverty of the inner cities, the predominantly non-white slums in which people exist as second-class citizens.
Much of Brazils recent popular music also carries a similar message of black resistance. However, Afro-Brazilian music is often dismissed as bland or tame because of the subtle and light sound. Those who make this mistake dismiss a music that was deemed dangerous enough by the military regime of the 1960s and 70s to warrant the exiling of several popular artists like Gilberto Gil and Caetono Veloso (Byrne, 1989, p. 3-4, Lindsay, 1989, p. 6). Frequently musicians had to resort to double and triple entendre in order to stay out of the political prisons (Lindsay, 1989, p. 6) while still delivering their messages of African pride and resistance.
Afro-Brazilian music, whether pop music or traditional, is a modern celebration of the black identity and culture. Long repressed, only in the recent decades has it been able to benefit from a renaissance of popularity that enables the masses to enjoy its aesthetics and message. Bloco afro groups such as Olodum have gained global popularity, not only playing large venues worldwide but also being featured on releases by other popular artists (such as Olodum appearances on Paul Simons Rhythm of the Saints and Michael Jacksons His-story). Many Brazilian artists now benefit from a global musical community in which they can interact with their counterparts from other countries. The Noite disc of the CSNZ double-disc set from Chico Science e Nação Zumbi, featuring remixes by Mario C of the Beastie Boys, David Byrne of the Talking Heads, the Mad Professor, and Goldie, is a project that underscores the blossoming of Afro-Brazilian music from obscurity to global popularity.
The recently enjoyed freedom of musical expression that Brazil is experiencing is essential. As the issues of racial hegemony and systemic racism are otherwise confined to scholarly debate, music is the only forum that serves to inform and unite the masses. Accordingly, many musicians have accepted the moral mandate, as in Reggae, to use their positions to promote African pride and to draw attention to the appalling conditions of the favelas and slums.
The Salvador (the capital of Bahia) based samba school, Olodum, follows in the tradition of Ilê Aiyê both in music and social reform. Enjoying global popularity, they take their message of urban poverty and strife to Europe, Africa and North America, playing large venues such as the Montreux Jazz Festival in France and small venues including the Flynn Theater in Burlington, Vermont. Their anthem against the system of racism and oppression in Brazil, "Desabofo Olodum", details their experiences as a black consciousness group:
Ragga, ragga, ragga Oloddum
It's time to think
Of a way to bring down
The discrimination that
Reigns here
The wall of dishonesty
Will no longer bear fruit
The people are not stupid
They are beginning to protest
The union movement
Fights against
Those who serve themselves
And enrich their profits
The ghettos of the periphery
Each day worsen
The prices that we pay
Each day rise
I love my country
But I'm ashamed of the system
Retrograde politicians
Are its greatest problem
(I've been) Three times in Europe
My song echoing
And resolutely
I continue my protest
I'm going to fight, and I'm going to win
And I'm going to return to your love
The song describes the birth of black consciousness as a political movement in Brazil. It is a call to action, motivating others to join in their fight against the discrimination that has become commonplace.
Musicians also attempt to address the ideology of whitening by promoting black pride and identity. Fernando, from Disciplina Urbana, makes the extreme (by Brazilian standards) argument that Brazilians of mixed race should simply consider themselves "black" (Stam, 1997, p. 46). The current of black pride often runs strong at the surface or can be subtle, as in Caetono Velosos "O Leãozniho" (The Lion) or in his praise of Ilê Aiyê in "Um Canto de Afoxé Para O Bloco Do Ilê" (A Song of Afoxé For The Bloco Ilê). Musicians also frequently give praise to the national symbols of freedom and resistance, Zumbi and the quilombos. Chico Science e Nação Zumbi (Chico Science and Zumbi Nation) frequently sing both of Zumbi and Palmares as well as the current fight against poverty in the favelas. Gilberto Gil also sings of Palmares in "Quilombo, O El Dorado Negro:"
Once there was a black El Dorado in Brazil
There it was like a shaft of sunlight that liberty released
It was there, reflecting the divine light from the holy fire of Olorum
And there it relived the utopia of one for all and all for one
Quilombo everyone built it, it took all the zeal of the saints
Quilombo all of the waters of all of their tears irrigated it
Quilombo all fell, loving and fighting
Quilombo even today all of us still want so much.
Gilberto Gils song underscores the ultimate goal of bringing the multiracial utopia of Palmares back to modern Brazil.
Music is a powerful medium that transcends many of the barriers of society, including illiteracy and poverty. It gives a voice to people that frequently would go unheard or ignored. It is so powerful that totalitarian military regimes have worked to confine and suppress it. Musicians have become ad hoc political leaders weaving manifestos and history lessons into rhythms and melodies for both enjoyment and education. Reggae and Afro-Brazilian music, drawing from the vast experiences of their collective diaspora, have become a voice of resistance to institutions of oppression in power for centuries. Led by the irrepressible spirits of Marcus Garvey and Zumbi, these artists are a musical quilombo fighting for their utopia, their Zion.
Appendix A: Approximate Area of Palmares Control
NOT AVAILABLE
Source: Political Map of Brazil Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection
Area of Palmares (Anderson, 546)
Appendix B: Accompanying Music CD
Discography:
Works Cited