Art is political. Anything contrary is irrelevant
When protest footage is edited to a hip-hop anthem, Chatur invokes unity before Rancho, and a forty-year-old film acts as a manifesto, the idea that art can remain apolitical falls apart.

Our country’s current political climate is as stormy and unpredictable as the monsoons. At any given moment, protests are unfolding across the country: farmers in Gujarat resisting land acquisition without fair compensation, tribal communities opposing the Ken-Betwa project by lying on funeral pyres and standing with nooses around their necks, citizens demanding accountability over institutional failures, and students gathering at Jantar Mantar under the banner of the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) over the NEET paper leak crisis and the devastating consequences it triggered. It was there that activist Sonam Wangchuk joined the protest and undertook an indefinite hunger strike, demanding accountability from the education system.
But the deciding factor in whether a protest remains a local grievance or becomes a national conversation isn't just the number of people on the ground. It is the moment when art decides to show up.
The very fact that I am able to write an op-ed about the relationship between art and politics is itself the result of political reform. It exists because brave individuals fought for women’s rights, youth rights, access to education, secularism, democracy, freedom of expression, and ultimately justice. Without political reform driven by ordinary people, none of the progress, entertainment, or nuance we enjoy today would exist.
That is why anyone who belongs to the art world, creates art, or relies on art for a living cannot turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to the protests unfolding in India today. The insistence that “art should stay out of politics” just sounds like a demand for silence. Artists enjoy a rare privilege: they can transform emotion into visibility and visibility into public pressure. That privilege didn’t merely arrive as a gift from above; it was earned through the struggles of people who demanded the right to speak, to create, to rebel.
So when every voice and every show of support matters, silence is not neutrality. It is a choice.
This is why the Jantar Mantar protests matter culturally as much as they matter politically.
Students and activists built the protest; artists, actors, musicians, comedians, and creators helped carry it into the national spotlight. Shabana Azmi, Naseeruddin Shah, Prakash Raj, Swara Bhasker, Kunal Kamra, Atul Kulkarni, Hanumankind, Raghu Ram, Ravinder Singh “Kaka,” Priya Saroj, and Chandrashekhar Azad did not create the movement, but they definitely helped expand its reach.
The protest’s soundtrack increased its appeal and pushed its reach through social algorithms even further. On-ground footage from Jantar Mantar has been remixed into Reels with tracks from Rang De Basanti, songs from Swades, tunes from 3 Idiots, and hits like Azadi by Divine and Dub Sharma from Gully Boy, while MC Altaf delivered fresh bars that captured the anger, frustration, and urgency driving the movement.
In that same respect, artists and celebrities have been upholding this attitude across the globe.
At the 2024 Cannes Film Festival, Cate Blanchett wore a black, white, and green gown whose sweeping train was widely interpreted as invoking the colours of the Palestinian flag. Javier Bardem wore a “Free Palestine” badge and joined public calls for a ceasefire. Mark Ruffalo signed open letters and repeatedly used his platform to advocate for Palestinian civilians. Susan Sarandon issued public statements condemning the violence and participated in solidarity campaigns. Macklemore released politically explicit music centred on the Gaza crisis.
Hozier has long embedded social and political commentary in his work, with Take Me to Church confronting homophobia and institutional control, Cherry Wine exploring the emotional complexities of domestic violence, and Swan Upon Leda engaging questions of bodily autonomy and power. He has also continued to speak publicly about human rights during his live performances.
The Strokes transformed their 2026 Coachella stage backdrop into a giant billboard of political protest. National football teams, including Norway, Egypt, and Spain, publicly condemned the violence in Gaza, particularly during the FIFA World Cup, when they had all eyes on them.
Because what we are witnessing is art openly colliding with power.
Back home, the irony of it all is also so absurdly cinematic. For years, Sonam Wangchuk has been popularly associated as the inspiration behind 3 Idiots, the film whose iconic lead character, Rancho, was played by Aamir Khan. Yet when Wangchuk began his hunger strike, Khan was asked about the connection and publicly clarified that the film was not directly based on the award-winning activist from Ladakh, while still commending Wangchuk’s stance and expressing hope that he would end his fast. On the other hand, one of the earliest celebrity voices to openly draw attention to the hunger strike was Omi Vaidya, the actor who played Chatur, the film’s memorably smug antagonist, and who took to Instagram to voice his support. In a real-life plot twist, Chatur ended up taking a public stance long before Rancho did.
One of the most widely circulated clips also being edited into the ongoing protest reels comes from Govind Nihalani’s 1984 film Party. In the scene, Avinash, the journalist played by Om Puri, turns to the Doctor and says, “If an artist is not politically committed, then his art is not relevant. What do you say, doctor?” The Doctor, played by Amrish Puri, responds, “Whether an artist believes in any political ideology or becomes a member of any political party, it is his personal decision; it is his personal choice. But one thing is clear, no matter what political system it is, raising your voice against injustice and oppression is the artist’s important responsibility.”
The dialogue literally says what the world needs to hear: art really is political.
That is the thing about politically charged art though: it never really expires. A forty-year-old film will still feel contemporary because that sentiment never dies.
Black feminist writer, filmmaker, and activist Toni Cade Bambara said it first: “As a cultural worker who belongs to an oppressed people, my job is to make revolution irresistible.”
Decades later, Rage Against the Machine frontman Zack de la Rocha carried that sentence onto the stage during the band’s 2022 reunion tour, repeatedly declaring, “The role of the artist is to make the revolution irresistible.” Once you hear that line, it becomes difficult to argue that artists can remain apolitical.
So no, art is not separate from politics.
The brush is political. The camera is political. The beat is political. The joke is political. The sport is political. The meme is political. The silence is also political.
An artist does not need to join a party. They do not need to endorse a manifesto. But if they benefit from the freedoms that protesters are trying to defend, they cannot pretend that their work exists in silos that are untouched by power and politics.
In a country where democracy is being negotiated in public every single day, the artist who refuses to engage is simply irrelevant.
All images: Getty Images
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