A ban will further marginalise young members of impoverished communities

Hip hop is an extremely diverse musical genre. Surprisingly, this diversity has evolved from highly minimal series of musical principles. At its most basic, raping consists of nothing more than rhyming verses that are delivered to a beat. This simplicity reflects the economically marginalised communities that hip hop emerged from. All that anyone requires in order to learn how to rap, or to participate in hip hop culture, is a pen, some paper and possibly a disc of breaks – the looped drum and bass lines that are used to time rap verses. Thanks to its highly social aspect, hip hop continues to function as an accessible form of creative expression for members of some of impoverished communities in both the west and elsewhere in the world. Point 7 suggests that free speech flourishes when we respect believers but are not forced to respect their beliefs. Free Speech Debate discusses this principle in the light of religious belief and religious expression. However, it is also relevant when we consider how our appraisal of an individual’s background, culture and values affects our willingness to accept or dismiss what she says. The positive case for banning- or at least condemning- hip hop often rests on its ability to reinforce the negative stereotypes of impoverished and marginalised communities that are propagated by majority communities. Critics of hip hop note that black men have often been stigmatised as violent, uncivilised and predatory. They claim that many hip hop artists cultivate a purposefully brutal and misogynist persona. The popularity of hip hop reflects the acceptance of this stereotype, and further entrenches discrimination against young black men. This line of thinking portrays hip hop artists as betrayers or exploiters of their communities, reinforcing damaging stereotypes and convincing adolescents that a violent rejection of mainstream society is a way to achieve material success. Arguments of this type fail to recognise the depth of nuance and meaning that words and word-play can convey. They are predicated on an assumption that the consumers of hip hop engage with it in a simplistic and uncritical way. In short, such arguments see hip hop fans as being simple minded and easily influenced. This perspective neglects the “recognition respect”, the recognition of equality and inherent dignity that is owed to all contributors of a debate. Moreover, it also bars us from properly assessing the “appraisal respect” owed to the content of hip hop and other controversial musical genres. When hip hop is seen as being inherently harmful, and as being targeted at an especially impressionable and vulnerable part of society, we both demean members of that group and prevent robust discussion of rap lyrics themselves. Academics such as John McWhorter see only the advocacy of violence and nihilism in lyrics such as “You grow in the ghetto, living second rate/ and your eyes will sing a song of deep hate”. But these are words that can also be interpreted as astute observation on the brutality that is bred by social exclusion. In point of fact, there is little in the previous verse, or those that follow it, “You’ll admire all the numberbook takers/ thugs, pimps and pushers, and the big money makers”, that could be interpreted as permitting, popularising or endorsing violence. That is, unless the individual reading the verse had already concluded that its intended audience lacked his own critical perspective and understanding of social norms and values. Even if an observer were ultimately conclude that a particular hip hop track had no redeeming value, a broad interpretation of point 7 suggests that he should, at the very least, credit its artists and listeners with a modicum of intelligence and reflectiveness. When we approach music with a custodial mind-set, determined to protect young listeners from what we see as harm or exploitation, we prevent those individuals from access a form of speech that may be the only affordable method of expression open to them. Just as we allow individuals the right to be heard in a language of their choosing (see point 1), we should also accept that perspectives from marginalised communities may not appear in a conventional form. Under these circumstances, it would be dangerous for us to curtail and marginalise a form of speech geared toward discussing the problems faced by impoverished young people that has, against the odds, penetrated the mainstream. We are likely to deepen existing prejudices by viewing rappers and their fans as infantile, impressionable and in need of protection.