2026/07. Fujiyoshida, Yamanashi JP

誰かが旗を振るまで待つのか / Massive Attackのフジロック公演と、私たちの主体性 - Are We Waiting for Someone Else to Raise the Flag? / Massive Attack at Fuji Rock and the Question of Our Own Agency

Massive Attackのフジロックでの公演について、賞賛や賛美の言葉をX上で多く目にしている。

現在の日本社会に対して、高い政治性を伴った映像と言葉を、大規模な舞台から提示したこと自体は非常に意義深いと思う。

彼らの政治的姿勢は今回突然始まったものではなく、長年の活動と実践に裏打ちされたものだろうし、それを多くの日本の観客が目撃し、何かを考える契機を得たことも肯定的に捉えている。

そのうえで、どうしても幾つかの違和感が残る。

まず、なぜ海外の著名なアーティストが、フジロックのような巨大な舞台で政治的な意思表示をした時に限って、これほど多くの人々が一斉に反応するのだろう。

同じ内容を、日本国内の無名、あるいは小規模な表現者が発言した場合、「音楽に政治を持ち込むな」「思想が強い」「意識が高い」と退けられることも少なくない。

しかし、それが海外の著名なアーティストによって、巨大なスクリーンと圧倒的な音響を伴って提示されると、途端に勇気ある芸術表現として安全に賞賛される。

問題なのは、その賞賛自体ではない。

自分自身の判断によって支持するのではなく、海外での評価や知名度、大舞台の権威、周囲の熱狂によって「これは支持してよいものだ」と確認してから同調するような態度に、主体性の乏しさを感じてしまう。

国内にも、政治的・社会的な問題に長年向き合い、表現や活動を続けている人々は存在している。

にもかかわらず、彼らには十分な光が当たらず、海外のスターが同様の問題を提示した時にだけ、「音楽には社会を動かす力がある」と発見したかのような反応が起こる。

そこには、内容そのものよりも、誰が語ったかによって価値が決定される、可視性と承認の大きな非対称があるように思う。

Massive Attackが素晴らしかったのであれば、その感動は本来、

「では、日本国内で同じ問題を訴え続けてきた人々は誰なのか」

「自分が暮らしている社会に対して、自分自身は何を考え、何ができるのか」

という問いへ接続されるべきではないだろうか。

日本社会の問題について、日本で暮らす私たちが自ら声を上げず、海外の著名人に旗を立ててもらい、その旗の下で初めて安心して賛同する。

もしそうであるなら、それはあまりにも受動的であり、ある種の精神的な従属にすら見える。

もちろん、海外の表現者が日本の社会や政治に言及することを否定したいわけではない。

戦争、軍需産業、気候危機、差別、監視社会、権威主義といった問題は、一国だけで完結するものではない。国境を越えて声を上げ、連帯することには大きな意味がある。

問題は、外から渡された旗を一夜だけ振って終わることだ。

その旗が何を意味するのかを自分の頭で考え、自分の言葉に翻訳し、自分が暮らす場所で立て直せるのか。

感動が「Massive Attackは凄かった」という思い出や、政治的に意識の高い自分を確認するための材料として消費され、翌日には元の日常へ戻るのであれば、あれほど強い政治性を持った表現も、結局は巨大なスクリーンに映された一夜限りのスペクタクルとして回収されてしまう。

これは他人だけを批判しているのではない。

私自身も含め、問題を認識し、言葉にすることはできても、それを具体的な行動へ移せているのかと問われれば、甚だ心許ない。

結局必要なのは、「主体性を取り戻す」という、あまりにも当たり前のことなのだと思う。

誰かが旗を振るまで待つのではなく、自分が何を支持し、何に抵抗するのかを、自分自身で考えること。

そして、海外の権威や巨大な舞台によって承認される以前から、身近な場所で声を上げ続けている人々に目を向けること。

Massive Attackの公演を賞賛することと、その受容の仕方に疑問を持つことは両立する。

むしろ本当に彼らの表現を受け取るのであれば、「凄かった」という賞賛だけで終わらせず、その感動を自分自身の言葉と具体的な行動へ変換するところまでが、観客側に残された応答なのではないかと思う。


I have seen a great deal of praise and admiration on X for Massive Attack’s performance at Fuji Rock.

I think there was real significance in the fact that, on such a large stage, they presented images and messages carrying a strong political charge, particularly within the context of contemporary Japanese society.

Their political stance is not something that appeared suddenly for this performance. It is backed by years of practice, activism, and artistic commitment. I also see it positively that so many people in Japan witnessed that performance and may have been prompted to think about the issues it raised.

And yet, several points of discomfort remain with me.

First, why is it that so many people suddenly react in unison when a prominent overseas artist makes a political statement on a stage as large as Fuji Rock?

If the same ideas were expressed by an unknown or relatively small-scale artist within Japan, they might easily be dismissed with comments such as, “Keep politics out of music,” “This is too ideological,” or “They’re trying too hard to look politically conscious.”

But when those same ideas are presented by a famous international artist, accompanied by enormous screens and overwhelming sound, they can suddenly be received as courageous and meaningful artistic expression.

The problem is not the praise itself.

What troubles me is the possibility that people are not supporting these ideas through their own judgment, but only after the artist’s international reputation, the authority of a major stage, and the enthusiasm of the surrounding crowd have effectively assured them that this is something they are permitted to support.

There are already people in Japan who have spent years confronting political and social issues through their art, writing, music, activism, and other forms of expression.

And yet many of them receive relatively little attention.

Then, when an international star presents similar concerns on a huge stage, people suddenly speak as though they have just discovered that music can carry political meaning or that art can have the power to intervene in society.

There seems to be a profound asymmetry here in terms of visibility and recognition.

The value of an idea often appears to be determined less by what is being said than by who is saying it.

If Massive Attack’s performance was truly moving, then surely that experience should lead naturally to further questions:

Who, within Japan, has already been speaking about these same issues?

And what do I myself think about the society I live in?

What am I prepared to do within it?

When problems concern Japanese society, and those of us who live here remain silent until a famous artist from abroad raises the flag for us, only then feeling comfortable enough to gather beneath it, something about that situation feels deeply passive.

At times, it can even resemble a kind of psychological dependence on external authority.

This is not to say that artists from abroad should refrain from commenting on Japanese society or politics.

War, the military-industrial complex, climate crisis, discrimination, surveillance, authoritarianism, and many other problems do not belong neatly to individual nations.

There is enormous value in people raising their voices across borders and forming forms of international solidarity.

The problem begins when we simply wave a flag handed to us from elsewhere for one night and then put it away.

Can we ask what that flag actually means?

Can we translate what moved us into our own language?

Can we raise that flag again, in our own way, in the places where we actually live?

If the experience is consumed merely as a memory of how “amazing Massive Attack were,” or as a means of confirming our own political awareness, only for us to return immediately to everyday life, then even an intensely political performance risks being reduced to a spectacle projected across giant screens for a single night.

This is not a criticism directed only at other people.

I include myself in it.

It is relatively easy to recognise a problem and put it into words.

But if I ask myself whether those words have been translated into sufficient concrete action, I cannot answer with much confidence.

In the end, perhaps what is required is something painfully obvious: the recovery of our own agency.

Not waiting for someone else to raise the flag.

Thinking for ourselves about what we support, what we oppose, and what we are willing to resist.

And paying attention to the people already speaking and acting around us, before their ideas are validated by international prestige or amplified on a gigantic stage.

There is no contradiction between praising Massive Attack’s performance and questioning the way that performance is being received.

If anything, taking their expression seriously should mean refusing to let the response end with “That was amazing.”

The real response begins when we translate that feeling into our own words, our own decisions, and our own concrete actions.