The greatest political songs of all time

Do you agree with the Political Studies Association's list?

To mark its 60th birthday, the Political Studies Association is compiling a list of the greatest ever political songs.

As you can see below, its longlist is a varied beast, ranging from Verdi's opera Aida, to the righteous Afrobeat of Fela Kuti, to Woody Guthrie's folky "This Land is Your Land" -- the latter a favourite of US progressives in the 1950s and 1960s that had a brief resurgence in 2009 when it was performed (including the "communist" verses) at Barack Obama's inauguration ceremony.

But what to make of the choices? You'll notice that the politics of these songs are overwhelmingly right-on -- the Italian anti-Fascist staple "Bella Ciao", the utopian "Imagine" -- or infused with a campaigning spirit -- the Special AKA's "Free Nelson Mandela", Public Enemy's "Fight the Power".

But are these the only kind of political songs? How about a song that actively supports the status quo, for example?

Here's the blogger Tom Ewing on Chris de Burgh's "The Lady in Red", not only one of the most cringeworthy number-one singles of all time, but also, according to Ewing, an encapsulation of market values: "the actual identity of the Lady In Red is quite irrelevant: what matters is her value, not her self".

Or, further still, perhaps the politics of a song are not only carried in its lyrics. J S Bach allegedy wrote a coded attack on his patron Frederick the Great into one of his final works, "The Musical Offering", but how about the tinny, repetitive beats carried over the PA of a high-street chain store? Is their insistence on shopping as a mechanical, compulsive activity a political message, too?

We'll be podcasting the PSA's top 20 on 25 March, but for now tell us what you think. What songs would make your top ten? Which ones have been missed?

Annie Lennox and Aretha Franklin: "Sisters Are Doing It for Themselves"

Anon: "Bella Ciao"

Barry McGuire: "Eve of Destruction"

Billie Holiday: "Strange Fruit"

Billy Bragg: "Which Side Are You On?"

Bob Dylan: "The Times They Are a-Changin'"

Bob Marley: "Redemption Song"

Bruce Springsteen: "Born in the USA"

Carl Bean: "I Was Born This Way"

Cecil A Spring-Rice: "I vow to thee my country"

Charles A Tindley: "We Shall Overcome"

Charly García: "Nos siguen pegando abajo"

Claude-Joseph Rouget de Lisle: "La Marseillaise"

Donovan: "Universal Soldier"

Edwin Starr: "War"

Elvis Costello: "Tramp the Dirt Down"

Enoch Sontonga: "Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika"

Eugène Pottier: "The Internationale"

Fela Kuti: "Zombie"

Gil Scott Heron: "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"

Horst Wessel: "Die Fahne hoch"

Jim Connell: "The Red Flag"

John Lennon: "Imagine"

Joni Mitchell: "Big Yellow Taxi"

Leonard Cohen: "The Partisan"

Li Youyuan: "The East is Red (东方红)"

Marvin Gaye: "What's Going on?"

Midnight Oil: "Beds Are Burning"

Nena: "99 Luftballons"

Nina Simone: "Mississippi Goddam"

Pete Seeger: "Where have all the flowers gone?"

Peter Gabriel: "Biko"

Plastic Ono Band: "Give Peace a Chance"

Public Enemy: "Fight the Power"

Randy Newman: "Political Science"

Rage Against the Machine: "Killing in the Name"

Robert Wyatt: "Shipbuilding"

Rolling Stones: "Gimme Shelter"

Sex Pistols: "God Save the Queen"

The Beatles: "Revolution"

The Clash: "Know Your Rights"

The Cranberries: "Zombie"

The Jam: "Eton Rifles"

The Police: "Invisible Sun"

The Special AKA: "Free Nelson Mandela"

The Strawbs: "Part of the Union"

Tracy Chapman: "Talkin' 'bout a Revolution"

U2: "Sunday Bloody Sunday"

UB40: "1 in 10"

Verdi: "Chorus of Hebrew Slaves"

Victor Jara: "Te Recuerdo Amanda"

William Blake: "Jerusalem"

Woody Guthrie: "This Land Is Your Land"

Daniel Trilling is the Editor of New Humanist magazine. He was formerly an Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era