In this issue of “Autogestión”, we explore music and song—not merely as forms of artistic expression, but as a Good, and above all, as a Common Good. The contributors to this edition approach music as an end in itself, with no ambition other than to lend the greatest possible intensity to a moment of silence. Yet the music that is truly destined to become a common good does conceal a purpose: it compels us to listen to that silence. A silence that rises above the clamour of commerce, power, violence and war. We speak of music at a time when the whole world seems to be turning into a noisy marketplace, where everything is treated as a commodity.
The power of the mighty is loud and deafening, demanding our attention at every turn. Capitalism has little regard for silence. The more fervently it worships productivity, the more it gives rise to the noise of weapons. Noise appears to multiply capital—or perhaps capital makes noise in order to multiply itself. Silence produces nothing. The music we wish to honour becomes goodness and beauty precisely because it emerges from silence and ultimately returns to it. Let us not misunderstand the silence we speak of. It is not the silence that comes from suppressing reality, nor from indifference, cowardice or an elitist withdrawal from the world. It is the silence that descends when exhaustion from work overcomes us; when anguish leaves us speechless; when suffering, wounds and pain can no longer be expressed, not even in cries; when joy, hope and deep emotion overflow every word. If music does not lift us beyond ourselves—if it does not spring from the silence of human brokenness—it cannot descend again transformed into fire. The descent of silence through great music becomes love. As the violinist Daniel Lozakovich tells us in this issue: “Music is not simply entertainment, something we attend and then move on from. It is a mystery—a mystery of our existence, but also a gateway to another world and a form of healing.” We shall also reflect, albeit with due humility, on song and on those songs that are born when silence is no longer possible and we are compelled to ‘sing reality’. For indeed, as the old song reminds us: “If the singer falls silent… life itself falls silent.” We shall speak of lyrics that call upon music—and upon our whole being—to carry the human voice beyond itself, until our shared humanity overflows.
There is no culture in which music is not one of its most distinctive expressions. Few things explain our lives as profoundly as music and song; above all, they reveal the collective experience of a people. If we wish to understand the true history of nations, there is no more eloquent source than their folk songs. Many of these compositions cannot be attributed to a single author, because they are often born collectively and continually reshaped by the lived experience of those who sing them together. At other times, the songbook of a people is enriched by individuals whose extraordinary creative gifts emerge from within the community itself. Nor has there ever been a social or political movement that has dispensed with music and song as a means of forging emotional bonds, strengthening collective identity, and expressing a shared vision or ideology. Music has undeniably been used for propaganda, and political power has repeatedly appropriated it for its own ends. This dimension of music also offers a lens through which to examine the changing dynamics of power throughout history. Yet the defining feature of our own age, as we noted at the outset, is the immense effort and investment devoted to transforming music and song—not into a Good, and certainly not into a Common Good—but into market products, commodities to be consumed and fetishised.
Commercial music then becomes little more than noise: a profitable industry that distracts us from the beauty that transcends us, redeems us, and helps us become better human beings. The beauty of music as a Common Good can never be separated from truth or justice. For this reason, this issue of *Autogestión* offers an initial reflection on how music and song can also help us build solidarity and strengthen political community. 1. From a song sung among poor communities in Central America, whose chorus reads: “I cannot remain silent; I cannot pass by indifferent to the suffering of so many people. I cannot remain silent—I have to sing the truth of reality.”
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