A culture muted

By banning music, reports Nicholas Wroe, the Taliban have removed an important force for unity
Afghan rubab
An Afghani rubab
In December 1998 an official notice was placed in a local newspaper in the city of Herat in western Afghanistan. It reported that a "number of unlawful instruments and goods" had been collected and publicly burned. The inventory included televisions, cassette players and VCRs and thousands of tapes. The list also included "musical instruments and accessories", items justified by an accompanying hadith [a report of the sayings or actions of the Prophet Mohammed] declaring that "those who listen to music and songs in this world, on the Day of Judgment molten lead will be poured into their ears".

Although this hadith is not generally recognised as authentic, the Taliban, who gained control of most of Afghanistan in 1994, have nevertheless used it in support of one of the most grotesque social experiments in human history.

The Taliban's most dramatic act of cultural vandalism was blowing up the Buddha statues of Bamiyan. But their impact has been equally catastrophic across all sections of Afghanistan artistic and cultural life. There is an outright ban on all visual representation of living creatures, which has meant the end of TV, video and cinema, as well as large chunks of painting and photography. There has also been a ban on music, by which is meant a ban on musical instruments and the sounds they make. Some unaccompanied chanting is still permitted, but only of traditional poetry or panegyrics to Taliban principles and martyrs.

Dr John Baily, a reader in ethno- musicology at Goldsmiths College, London, has been conducting fieldwork in Afghanistan and neighbouring countries for nearly 30 years. "Afghanistan had an extraordinarily rich musical life," he says. "It played an important part in social rites of passage; birth, circumcision [for boys], and particularly at weddings."

And, he says, music has played a crucial role in keeping the ethnically diverse country together. The two principal ethnic groups are the Pashtuns, "true Afghans", who dominate the south and share a culture with the Pashto speakers of northern Pakistan, and the Persian speaking Tajiks. "One of the few areas where a pan-Afghan identity has emerged," says Baily, "is through popular music, which is a hybrid of the Pashtun musical style with a lot of Tajik language. This music, particularly as broadcast by the radio, brought together these two groups."

Radio didn't come to Afghanistan until the 1940s and the broadcasting of music became an important modernising force. Being a professional musician was usually a hereditary position for members of low-caste families and carried a social stigma. Radio allowed musicians from middle-class backgrounds to perform, because they couldn't be seen. Ahmad Zahir, the son of a former prime minister, was a star in the 70s.

Radio also allowed women to become professional musicians. The Taliban repression of women has had a severe impact on musical culture. Women's performance was the bedrock for musical life in Afghanistan. Although traditionally playing different instruments from men at different venues and occasions, "this is the music that children hear as they grow up," says Baily. "It's never performed in public or on the radio, but it was being made at home all the time."

The roots of the music ban can be found in the refugee camps in Pakistan which took in more than 3m Afghans after the Russian invasion of 1978 and the subsequent war against the communist regime waged by the mojahedin. The only significant Afghan rite of passage that is not accompanied by music is a funeral. Because so many people in the camps were in mourning for family who had been killed fighting the Russians, it was seen as inappropriate to play music in the camps. This informal ban was an early indication of the power over Afghan opinion and behaviour being wielded by certain mullahs.

The Soviet army left Afghanistan in 1989 and by 1992 the mojahedin had taken over under the leadership of a faction head, President Rabbani. His government brought in a series of socially repressive measures. Musicians had to have a licence, which prohibited love songs, dance music and amplification, and permitted only spiritual songs or those praising the mojahedin. While, in theory, music was permitted at weddings, in practice the Office for the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, the newly formed religious police, would confiscate the instruments, which would be smashed or returned a few days later if a fee was paid.

But while public performance virtually ended, patrons could employ musicians to play in their homes, and the radio - operative for two hours a day - would occasionally broadcast music as would the sporadic TV service, but without pictures of the musicians.

However, in 1994, following the Taliban capture of Kabul, even these meagre musical outlets were prohibited. The sight of wooden poles covered in huge ribbons of tape ripped from music and video cassettes took on iconic status. Musicians were jailed for up to 40 days for playing music. Two of John Baily's former teachers were apprehended at a wedding party by the religious police and beaten with their own instruments. They were then imprisoned until their friends paid for them to be released.

Baily says it is likely that many of the ideas about censorship came from neighbouring Iran in the mid 80s, although the censorship is not specifically to do with Islam. "Some of the great art music forms come from Muslim societies - Persian, Arab, Turkish," he explains. "But it is true that there has also been an unease about music."

He says the Taliban owe a lot of their ideology to Saudi Arabian Wahhabism. But while Saudi Arabia is not known for its musical life, there is music on TV and there are concerts and women singers. "In my opinion the Taliban are extremely puritanical and against any form of entertainment outside the sphere of religion. Music is widely recognised as something that can provide transcendental experience. People who want to control other people in terms of their spiritual life don't like that."

However, music has managed to go underground in Afghanistan - literally. Many homes have cellars where music can be played. Live performance goes on in rural areas where the Taliban have little presence. There is also access to illegally held VCRs. A couple of years ago there was craze for the film Titanic, the theme of which, unrequited love, was a standard element of Afghan popular song.

The pressing medium-term concern is about the role certain factions within the Northern Alliance will play in the post- Taliban era. This grouping includes many of the same people who introduced the licencing of musicians in the first place. But Baily is confident that in the longer term Afghan music will again flourish.

"Without music you are depriving yourself of important channels of communication, both in terms of emotional expression and in bringing people together to feel part of the community. Whatever comes out of this conflict, music will have an interesting place. It is a very sensitive indicator of other wider social and cultural issues."

Can You Stop The Birds Singing? by John Baily, and examples of Afghan music including Taliban chants, can be found on the Freemuse website www.freemuse.org