The Art of Dissent

The Role of Artists in Today's Politics

October 2025

A Necessary Pathway for Artists

Art, at its core, is the practice of seeing differently. It begins with curiosity, grows through questioning, and matures through the courage to disagree. The ability to flip a problem upside down or ask a question no one else dares to ask is often called intelligence—but it’s also a quiet form of rebellion. Experience has taught me that dissent is not defiance for its own sake; it’s a mark of a free mind.

History’s greatest thinkers stood apart from their times. They questioned taboos, challenged prejudice, and reimagined what others accepted as truth. We owe progress to those willing to think outside the frame.

Art is the clearest expression of that spirit. The only art that endures is the kind that dares to be different—original, singular, unlike anything else. As an art teacher, I live this paradox daily: I can teach craft, technique, and discipline, but not voice. That part is up to the student—to decide what to reject, what to embrace, and how to make something truly their own. Every artist must face that moment of dissent.

I’ve always admired artists for that courage. Especially those whose work unsettles or provokes. Aside from their creative output, I think it is always recommendable to hear what artists say, if anything, just because they proved to be capable of an alternative way of thinking. I generally find interesting to hear what creative artists, like painters, or composers, decide to share, their opinions or views, even more so than intellectuals or writers: words being not their preferred means of expression might make what a painter has to say even more significant to my ears. This is especially true when an artist is articulating dissent.

What about the artist’s political views?

Art and creativity are intrinsic to being human—both individually and collectively. The arts shape our attitudes toward society, guiding our morals, ethics, and sense of shared life. I believe art has a political function, and that artists bear a political responsibility—politics understood here as the noblest expression of our social duties.

It is legitimate to link a work of art to a political stance, but whether we find its message good, bad, or necessary is secondary. What matters is that when art arises from honesty and humility—when it seeks to challenge accepted paradigms—it inevitably impacts society, whether the artist intends it or not. The question then becomes: if the work speaks for itself, should the artist speak as well?

Knowing that integrity and intellectual honesty often define good artists, I’m inclined to think their personal opinions are worth hearing. Yet we must remember that it’s their work—not their commentary—that moves us, inspires us, and offers new ways of seeing, feeling, and thinking. It is through their art, not their statements, that they challenge how we live together and even hint at new forms of politics. Outside their work, artists are citizens like anyone else. Their ability to move audiences reflects the quality of their art, not the authority of their opinions.

The Role of Artists in Today’s Politics

I’ve always been able to separate Wagner from his antisemitism and Hemingway from his love of bullfighting: however questionable were their opinions on sensitive issues these do not diminish the artistic value of their work. An artist’s name, origin, race, sexuality, or faith are irrelevant to the appreciation of their work. The same goes for their political opinions: they may be interesting, but ultimately, they hold no special weight.

With that in mind, today I find myself conflicted, having to recognize that among the visionaries, the great thinkers and creators, who masterfully guide minds and hearts into the other, the unknown, the alternative way, those who can inspire us towards the universal, the beautiful, the uniting, many of them have fallen prey to the lowest kind of political tribalism. It is probably the result of a deeply corrupted information economy, a system to which we all fall prey to a degree or another. But it saddens me to admit that, at this point, I have no patience left for anyone who claims political righteousness, especially artists who, even if armed with their best intentions, end up confusing their audience for their ideological supporters.

Let’s go back in time for a moment. What about Orwell, don’t you love George Orwell? I do. He’s the perfect case for this argument. Widely celebrated for his intellectual honesty, Orwell expressed his views loud and clear. Though deeply engaged with the politics of his day, he also articulated a vision, an alternative, he inspired a revolution in consciousness about complex societies, and he did that through art. In fact, it is the message within his fictional works—particularly 1984 and Animal Farm—that remains most relevant. Orwell’s artistic voice ultimately transcends his political voice. It’s worth noting that both novels centre on the struggle to dissent from social norms—a hint, perhaps, of where the real problem still lies today.

In our time, I often find political statements from artists to be anything but original. Many talented individuals—young and old—declare their opposition to the political establishment, yet their outrage sounds eerily uniform. The higher up on the celebrity ladder, the more identical the opinions become. Is that not a form of elitism, simply rebranded? A big choir of privileged people chanting in unison how bad is the system. I am not interested in hearing a pre-concert speech about how awful is this or that political affiliation. Thank you, I am here for the music.

Education is what gives immunity to fashionable ideas and seductive trends. Yet public displays of dissent have themselves become trendy, how ironic. And when outrage is met with humility or silence, the elite’s voice only grows louder, angrier, and more performative, now bordering the grotesque.

True dissent is different. For starters, it doesn’t come cheap: loss of status and reputation, you’re either very brave or very fool. Dissent is real only if one has come to know the orthodoxy inside out, looked at every possible alternative, every angle, and concluded there is no other option. Dissent is a hard choice that shows there is more at stake than your opinion.

In conclusion:

I remind myself that humility is the surest sign of integrity. Humility means recognizing that serious problems demand serious effort: patient, rigorous, often painful work. If it costs nothing to adopt a worldview, then no sacrifice has been made—and no honest intellectual work has taken place. Clarity comes from deep, slow, demanding, mostly solitary study. Perhaps this is why, in difficult times, a respectable artist chooses silence.