Invisible Power

Taking On the Invisible “Man”: How Art Confronts Power

This is Part 2 in a series on Art and Power.

If our arts and cultural work is to truly bring about social change, we need to understand what we are up against. There are multiple kinds of power wielded by the powerful, some more conducive to artistic intervention than others.

According to a theory first put forward by Steven Lukes, and further developed by John Gaventa and others, power has three faces. The most visible face is the power to win out in formal decision making, whether in congress or in the board room. This is sometimes called visible power, and some have made the mistake of thinking this is the only kind of power there is. Visible power can be engaged with through formal channels such as lobbying. The arts have been used occasionally in the realm of visible power — for example, Augusto Boal’s Legislative Theater.

There is a second kind of dominating power called hidden power. This is the power to decide who is at the table when visible decisions are made, and which issues can be raised. Much of the work of activist and organizing groups is focused on getting new voices to the table, and raising ignored issues. The arts can help amplify these voices, and frame issues — for example, through political posters or grassroots media.

But there is also a third, more insidious, kind of power: invisible power. This is the power to control what people even think is possible. Invisible power hides the very fact that power is at work. We can see its effects when we begin to think that poverty or racism, for example, are natural: “just the way things are.” This power does not need to be used intentionally — it exists in the culture and shapes all of us. Arts and other forms of cultural work are at their most potent in the invisible realm — in fact, they may be essential to confronting invisible power.

I think of invisible power in two different ways, each of which suggests a different kind of creative intervention. From a traditional psychological perspective, invisible power acts within a person’s mind. For example, it creates feelings of inferiority and the internalization of stereotypes; also called internalized oppression. The remedy is to engage in internal consciousness-raising processes such as political education, radical healing, or conscientization.

Artistic and cultural practices can serve as spaces for this kind of transformative work. Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed techniques are specifically geared towards conscientization, but many art forms can be used to help us explore our struggles, and collectively begin to imagine a different world. Philosopher Maxine Greene has written eloquently about how experiences with the arts can help us develop our social imagination — the ability “to bring alternative realities into consciousness, to look at things as if they could be otherwise.” Furthermore, many groups use traditional practices and rituals to  draw strength from shared histories and identities, and counter this kind of oppression.

Another way to think about invisible power is through a discursive lens, like that of Foucault. In this sense, invisible power exists in not in our heads, but in our culture. It acts as a set of narratives that are taken as true, or common sense. For example, in the US this power works through the myth of meritocracy that says anyone can make it if they work hard enough — thus making us feel that when we do not succeed, it is all our fault. If we think of invisible power this way, then the response is to introduce alternative discourses, or counter narratives, that challenge, shift, and replace these dominant stories.

To do this, we can call upon the arts as powerful storytelling media. Just as advertising companies wield invisible power by saturating our lives with narratives of consumption, artists can develop and spread alternative stories — through plays, murals, creative actions, posters, and more. And social media have created ever more accessible ways of spreading these new narratives into the public sphere — though more traditional modes of public and street art can still hold particular strength. We see this kind of work being done by groups like SmartMeme, with their story-telling strategies, or with the “Drop the I-Word” campaign.

The power to oppress is often at its strongest when it is least visible. Cultural organizing, and other forms of arts activism, might be our best chances to uncover it, and face it.

Artists: We Need to Talk about Power

In all this talk about empowerment, there is a strange absence of talk about power

Many artists and arts educators talk of tying art making to social change. Often this is explained in terms of “empowerment” — empowering youth, empowering communities. This rather vague term can refer to anything from building artistic skills to increasing confidence to helping people find their “voice.” But usually absent from the discussion is any deep talk about  power — what it is, how it is built, and how it is confronted. We often end up making social change seem warm and fuzzy — all building relationships and skills and community, with little focus on conflict, resistance, or confrontation.

Art-student-logo-fist-with-paint-brushIf we really want to make change (and I believe we do) we need to talk about power. The current state of things is defended by people and institutions with enormous amounts of power. That power must be understood and confronted for any change to happen. It’s messy, and risky, and might scare off some funders, but is absolutely necessary.

When involved in art making for social change, we first of all need to understand what we are up against: What people, institutions, discourses, etc. are maintaining the status quo? What sources or types of power do they have? Where is that power weakest? How is is best addressed — confrontationally or relationally, overtly or covertly? And at the same time, what sources of power do we have? Where are we strongest? What kind of power do we need to build? What kind of resistance might we face?

To do this kind of power analysis in an artistic space requires broader understanding of power than we sometimes have. Power lies not just in political influence or money or mobilizing large groups of people, but also in the stories that are told about us and our communities, in the stereotypes that trap us, in the withholding of information and a censoring of history.

Over the next few posts, I’m going to explore some different theories of power, and what they suggest about how the arts and other forms of cultural expression can build, wield, and confront power:

Read the rest of the series on art and power at the links below: