The recent influx of dancehall dubs on the campaign trail by political hopefuls from both sides of the divide brings into focus the place and duty of dancehall. It was just last year that a group of young professional lawyers to be were chastised and told that their favourite art form is not worthy of an Instagram post. Attorney Peter Champagnie is quoted in the press as saying that he “enjoys all genres of music, but there is a time and a place for everything”. This after the Mona Law Society (MLS) posted a few pictures of women dressed in old-school dancehall regalia. It is interesting how the still images immediately were associated with a genre of music according to the learned attorney’s statement.

Champagnie said publicly: “What is particularly offensive about it [the pictures] is that they are for public display. It is not a private viewing page and it is associated with persons who would wish to join what I still consider a noble and respectable profession.” Subsequently he said that he would be pulling out of a prior commitment with the MLS.

Based on this reasoning from the learned attorney, dancehall has no place aligning publicly with the respectable students of the MLS. The students are part of an emerging young, innovative, and creative class. Their inspiration comes from elements in the immediate environment. Their innocent optimism and hope of creating using dancehall up to that time was yet to be corrupted by cynicism.

For most of Jamaica’s creative youth, their reason for creating stems from a universal humane desire for a better life. Likewise the young dancehall artistes’ most pressing need is to make money, so they can give themselves and their families a fair economic base. This is no different from any of the children studying law. All the examples in our environment, and in the capitalist-based schools, point to this as an ideal.

Dancehall is part facilitated dialogue, part performance, part commercial activity and celebration. It serves as a powerful means of articulating social issues and should be understood as a cultural milieu through which Jamaica’s social, judicial, and political ideologies are processed. On the contrary, many politicians have drafted and supported policies in the past that suppress the art form. Many have made anti-dancehall statements and insinuated that dancehall causes crime. Dancehall is still being censored in many quarters of Jamaica, including on stage.

There are a list of words dancehall artistes use for added effects that are banned, and an even longer list of dancehall songs that can’t be played on public air. Dancehall is still referred to as noise in the Noise Abatement Act, which specifically targets the playing of music after 2:00 am in Jamaica.

The statements made by Champagnie, and the police, have been discouraging the progress of dancehall. Jamaicans whose daily experiences and dress codes are similar to the the law students mentioned above identify with the dancehall themes. They are constantly under attack for their fashion, and their culture.

Still, dancehall has the ability to be a vehicle of artistic and academic achievement. It encompasses the maths and magic of our society. Indeed, many artistes, producers, designers, dancers, and promoters wouldn’t have found wealth and personal progress had it not been for dancehall. Nonetheless, its value should not only be recognised for its ability to make money and win elections, but the songs and movements ought to be viewed as an opportunity to experience an intellectual awakening across society.

With dancehall being the most popular form of youth expression in Jamaica, we should respect its use as a tool for higher education, political and social awareness, as well as for facilitating humanist civil advocacy. Most of the current dancehall dub plates on the political campaigns aren’t making political statements, but rather political endorsements. Whenever dancehall makes political statements, as in the case of Bounty Killer’s Anytime and reference in Baby Cham’s Ma People, it is banned. It would do politicians and social engineers well, to view dancehall as a complex art form and lifestyle that requires the attention, research, and development of all its components to better serve the growing democracy.

It is a wonder that, after so many years, and the valuable contributions of dancehall, there is still the need to remind leaders, lawyers, churchgoers, and politicians of its value to solve complex problems in Jamaica. We need some new ways of thinking.

Dancehall and other youthful expressions are necessary to push boundaries and encourage new ways of thinking. Dancehall should be used to celebrate, as well as lament, the Jamaican condition, and it cannot be silenced. Any suggestions, commissions, or imposed austerity or ban from the airwaves, or on social media pages of ‘high-society’ organisations should be rejected. In fact, it is often when banned from public discourse that dancehall’s heinous lyrics and unexplained intentions thrive underground and find ways into conservative homes.

Dancehall shares an ancestral language that Jamaican politicians use when necessary to increase communication with their constituents. As such dancehall artistes continue to help socially awkward politicians with their cool factor to win elections. Jamaica, therefore, needs leadership at the highest levels of the judiciary, and heads of government, who will rally for the value of the popular post-colonial youth expression. We need leaders who will be capable of using dancehall and its communicative powers towards more social good and to turn the disenfranchised into geniuses in fashion, design, writing, and even law.

As a teacher, I found that dancehall could be used to increase the literacy levels of all my students from various socio-economic backgrounds. The streets that dancehall occupies are idealised by the youth as an authentic cultural zone, where love and communal affiliation collide with other more threatening situations. It should not be used by politicians and then cast aside.

Regardless of class, age, education, political or religious conditioning, we all want to see a better nation for the future. It is vitally important to find a common approach, a common solution to a common problem that will not leave segments of the society isolated after the elections are won.

If dancehall is good enough to help elect lawyer politicians, it is good enough to exist in law schools. Never again should it be said that dancehall is holding back the nation or disgracing organisations and causing crime. It is the lack of empathy, care, and guidance for the youth, and especially young women and girls, that is holding back the nation’s progress and reducing nobility. Not giving dancehall the same graces we afford other cultures and religions also hold us back.

No more pontificating and shaming dancehall whenever political leadership on social issues comes into question. Dancehall has its deviants, but those who gain success from and enjoy it will tell you that within dancehall’s core values are principles of prosperity, leadership, discipline, character, and balanced self-assessment.

As for the artistes who didn’t want to participate in the “dubs for money” campaign, they could make a bigger statement by exercising their collective bargaining powers: Demand from policymakers what is needed in exchange for dubs and endorsements. Have them publicly declare their support for new innovative policies and hold them accountable when elected. That is the true value of a dancehall dub as dancehall builds trust and accountability for itself and in the leaders.

J R Watkis is a film director, TV host, and music industry consultant. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or worldmusicviews@gmail.com.