Fascism and Oligarchy are familiar bedfellows that share several structural similarities, including the concentration of power, the suppression of dissent, the prioritization of ruling-class interests, and the erosion of democratic norms.
The repressive effect of fascism and oligarchy on citizens includes loss of political voice, economic inequality, reduced civil liberties, and social polarization. Horrifyingly, we’re seeing the effects of fascism and oligarchy in America today.
I understand the cynicism Americans feel around politics — and it is totally justified. But, to effectively fight the spread of fascism and oligarchy, we MUST participate in democratic processes, even when they feel imperfect. So, educate yourselves (and others), build cross-community solidarity, push for structural reforms, and stay connected and refuse isolation.
My Paper, My Words is a collection of essays, stories, and poems that reflect the challenges of a middle-class husband and father trying to navigate a rapidly changing political, religious, and technological landscape of post-911 America.
In these turbulent times, why don’t we have protest songs like we used to?
What cultural or sociological changes have made the protest song less popular?
Why Protest Songs Once Thrived
During the 1960s-70s, the economics and centralized nature of the music industry, combined with a shared identity amongst America’s youth (cemented by America’s role in the Vietnam War), provided fertile ground for protest songs to gain popularity.
In the America of the 1960s-70s, young, college-educated, middle-class Americans (a significant demographic) aligned with the counterculture, civil rights, and anti-war movements. This alignment allowed protest songs to find a home in the collective conscience of a generation of young Americans.
The conditions that led to the popularity of protest songs in the 1960s-70s included:
Mass movements: Civil rights and anti-war protests created collective spaces where songs unified crowds.
Limited media outlets: Radio and television amplified protest songs as rallying cries, giving them cultural dominance.
Shared identity: Songs like Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind” or Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” became shorthand for generational values.
Why Protest Songs Declined
Protest songs haven’t disappeared, but their cultural role has shifted due to the following conditions:
Fragmented music culture: Streaming platforms and niche genres mean fewer “universal” hits that everyone hears.
Commercial pressures: Record labels often avoid overtly political content to maximize global market appeal.
Social media activism: Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram now serve as protest tools, reducing reliance on music as the primary vehicle for dissent.
Individualized expression: Protest today often emphasizes personal identity and micro-activism rather than collective anthems.
Cultural fatigue: In turbulent times, audiences may feel overwhelmed, turning to escapism rather than politicized art.
Today, activism often happens through digital platforms, fragmented music genres, and individualized expression rather than mass sing-alongs. Changes have made protest songs less central to political movements.
So, while video killed the radio star in the 1980s, changes in the music industry, commercialization, and the rise of social media may have killed the political protest song today — and that’s a fucking shame, because if there was ever a time for unifying the power of music against political corruption and maleficence, it’s today.
Here are some political protest songs’ that I’ve been working on (my lyrics, Suno’s music). Feel free to share or comment on them!
Donald Trump won’t be around forever (thank God) – but his impact will linger like a fart in a closet. Trump provides a blueprint for other candidates who might possess similar autocratic tendencies. This song is a “heads-up” about the barbarians who will gather at the gates of our democracy once Trump is dead and gone.
These lyrics are from a poem I wrote after the Charlie Kirk assassination. It’s about how dangerously divided America is and the potential for spiraling political violence that seems increasingly likely in the second Trump term.
I wrote the poem “Get a Load of Elon” after seeing the sickening footage of that smiling dirtbag laughing it up and swinging a chainsaw around like some fake-ass efficiency hero. Fuck that guy and everything he represents. I think Suno captured the tone I was looking for on this one.
Donald Trump is my fat, ugly muse. There, I said it. Shame on everyone who voted for this criminal, and fuck all the cowards in Congress who are failing to stand up to this two-bit thug. And that’s all I have to say about this song.
I came up with these lyrics based on a poem I wrote in 2017 called “Resist”, which was about pushing back against Donald Trump and his policies, which I saw as an existential threat to America’s democracy. I added several new verses for the song and reworked the verse that would become the chorus. I can see the Dixie Chicks or Dolly Parton belting this out. I’m not a big fan of country or rockabilly music, but I think that musical style works well with the words here.
Suno and I, channeling our best Pat Benatar impression. I wrote the poem “Oligarchic Kings” recently and published it on my blog. I changed it quite a bit for the song version.
When I wrote this poem originally, I wrote it to the cadence of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from “Mary Poppins” and included it in my book “Imagine There’s No Donald” (available on Amazon😉 ). I asked Suno to create a power-pop song from the poem. It’s the only poem I used as is (not changing any of the words). It’s a campy/poppy version of a Disney classic.
My Paper, My Words is a collection of essays, stories, and poems that reflect the challenges of a middle-class husband and father trying to navigate a rapidly changing political, religious, and technological landscape of post-911 America.
Through his organization Turning Point USA (TPUSA), Charlie Kirk became a significant force in conservative youth politics by tapping into a feeling of cultural displacement among young white men—especially those outside elite institutions—by validating their frustrations and offering a political identity that felt empowering.
He successfully rebranded conservatism for youth by leaning into cultural grievances, opposing progressive ideas (like DEI, CRT, gender fluidity), which resonated with young men who felt blamed or sidelined in mainstream discourse.
In many ways, Charlie Kirk’s meteoric rise embodies the quintessential American success story, where money, power, and fame are all that matter and where kindness, empathy, and service to others are for suckers.
On the surface, some of what Charlie Kirk did and achieved seems almost noble. He reached out to a segment of society that felt politically voiceless and culturally alienated, and he gave them a voice. He recognized the underrepresentation and an utter lack of organized advocacy for non-college-educated white males in America and championed their needs.
The problem was how Charlie Kirk framed their economic disenfranchisement.
Kirk sold young white non-college-educated males on the simplistic notion that the source of their economic disenfranchisement were immigrants, women, minorities, and wokeism, when in reality, their alienation from mainstream American society and its institutions and their feeling of lost purpose and status stems from economic and social shifts that have eroded the traditional path of a stable, middle-class life for those without a bachelor’s degree.
When a large segment of the population feels economically useless and politically invisible, it creates fertile ground for resentment, polarization, and instability. Discontentment is low-hanging fruit for the opportunistic and power-hungry, and Trump and Kirk cultivated and harvested that low-hanging fruit with great success, while continuing to spread the seeds of grievance, misinformation, and lies across the fertile minds of disaffected American youth for fame, fortune, and power.
Charlie Kirk and Donald Trump are emblematic of the deep rot in America’s political system, where politicians and influencers exploit the disaffected for their own personal gain, indoctrinating followers with cultural hot-button issues and identity politics to the point where the cultivated group doesn’t even care that they’re not being helped.
Like Trump, Kirk was never interested in helping his followers; he was only interested in exploiting them. To Charlie Kirk, America’s disaffected youth were a cash crop.
Genuine solutions to political disempowerment and economic disenfranchisement are complicated, expensive, and require systemic intervention from empathetic, pragmatic, and intelligent leaders who are genuinely interested in helping others. Amplifying polarization, promoting misinformation, and framing politics as a zero-sum cultural war are not solutions; those actions ensure the status quo.
We must connect the disaffected to hope and aspiration, rather than hatred and anger. It’s one thing to say, I feel your pain, quite another to do the hard work of alleviating the pain – and as we see with Trump and saw with Charlie Kirk, it’s a lot easier and more lucrative to point a finger and say, “them, they, those people, they’re the reason you are not flourishing.“
Doing the hard work to bring the disaffected back into the fold means investing in government-sponsored programs, training, and empathy, and those things are a tough sell in today’s political environment.
My Paper, My Words is a collection of essays, stories, and poems that reflect the challenges of a middle-class husband and father trying to navigate a rapidly changing political, religious, and technological landscape of post-911 America.
bendingtheneedle 