The relationship between music and American politics is more than a soundtrack to campaigns. It’s a deep, often unconscious, dialogue about national identity. This week on Lehigh Valley Political Pulse, host Tom Shortell sat down with Lehigh University political scientist Chris Borick to explore this intersection. Their conversation, timed ahead of Bethlehem’s Musikfest, peeled back the layers on how songs become vessels for our values, often without us even realizing it.
People don’t just listen to music for entertainment. We use it to build communities and reinforce our worldviews. Borick noted that listeners often seek validation in their musical choices, not confrontation. “When people turn to music, sometimes they say, ‘I don’t want any politics in my music,’” Borick observed. “But when they do, they want their politics to be reinforced by their music rather than challenged.” This explains why genres can become politically monolithic, creating sonic bubbles as potent as any social media echo chamber.
Consider the campaign rally. Former President Donald Trump’s persistent use of the Village People’s “YMCA” is a prime example. The song itself carries no inherent political message. Yet, through sheer repetition in a specific, charged context, it became an anthem for his base. Borick suggested its power wasn’t lyrical but atmospheric. “I think he just likes it,” Borick said. “I think he likes the dance. I think he likes the atmosphere it provides at rallies.” The music created a shared, visceral experience that transcended policy, forging unity through rhythm and participation.
The flip side of this dynamic is punishment. The experience of The Chicks, formerly the Dixie Chicks, remains a stark lesson. Their criticism of President George W. Bush on the eve of the Iraq War wasn’t just a comment; it was, in the eyes of many fans, a betrayal of a presumed shared identity. In the post-9/11 climate, country music was deeply intertwined with patriotic sentiment. The group’s backlash wasn’t merely about a political disagreement—it was a rupture in a cultural compact. Their story illustrates how music scenes enforce political orthodoxy, sometimes with severe commercial consequences.
Yet some songs break through to define eras, becoming permanent records of national conscience. Borick pointed to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s “Ohio,” written hours after the Kent State shootings. While the song did not alter the trajectory of the 1972 election, it crystallized a moment of outrage and grief. “It didn’t change the 1972 election,” Borick said, referring to Richard Nixon’s landslide reelection. “But it became a point of reference for Americans.” These songs outlive the news cycles, offering future generations an emotional pathway into understanding past struggles.
Perhaps the most complex interactions occur when a song’s intent is hijacked by politics. Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” stands as the ultimate case study. Its triumphant melody and chorus belied a searing lyric about a forgotten Vietnam veteran. Despite this, President Ronald Reagan famously tried to adopt it as a campaign anthem in 1984, hearing only the pride, not the protest. This wasn’t an accident; it was a selective hearing that served a political need for uncomplicated patriotism. Borick reframed this tension, arguing, “I think it is patriotic to criticize and hold your country up to a higher standard.” The song’s journey underscores how politics often prefers symbolism over substance, molding art to fit a simpler narrative.
Music’s true political power may lie in its longevity. Policies are debated and laws are passed, but anthems endure. They provide the emotional scaffolding for movements and memories. They allow individuals to feel part of something larger, whether it’s a campaign rally or a protest march. In a fragmented media landscape, a shared song can still create a fleeting, powerful sense of common ground, even if that ground is contested. As we move through another election cycle, watch not just the speeches and ads, but the playlists. They tell a subtler, often more honest, story about who we are and what we believe we’re fighting for. The beat, it seems, often goes on long after the ballots are counted.
- Music as a vessel for values
- Political validation through choice
- Campaign rallies and shared experiences
- Commercial consequences of political dissent
- Defining moments captured in songs
- Hijacked symbolism in lyrics
| Artist | Song | Political Context |
|---|---|---|
| The Chicks | Not Ready to Make Nice | Backlash against Bush’s Iraq War |
| Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young | Ohio | Kent State shootings |
| Bruce Springsteen | Born in the U.S.A. | Vietnam veteran experience |
| Village People | YMCA | Trump campaign rallies |
| Bob Dylan | The Times They Are A-Changin’ | Social change anthem |
| Kendrick Lamar | This Is America | Commentary on gun violence and race |
