Reggae music is not an easy music to like when it comes to the

Hear the voice of Ziggy Marley, son of prophecy and music, who declared: “Reggae music is not an easy music to like when it comes to the power in society. ’Cause it talks about changing society. You won’t find it readily accepted.” In these words lies both warning and revelation: that true art, when it dares to challenge the order of the world, will never be embraced quickly by those who benefit from the order as it is.

For reggae music was born not in palaces, but in the streets of Kingston, where the poor cried out for justice, and the oppressed longed for dignity. It was the music of Rastafari, the chant of the broken, the song of a people calling for freedom from Babylon—the symbol of corrupt and exploitative systems. Such music does not flatter kings, nor soothe the wealthy, nor comfort the rulers of the age. Instead, it shakes their thrones with words of truth, declaring that society must change, that oppression must fall, that the meek shall inherit the earth.

Thus, Marley’s words remind us: art that comforts power is praised, but art that challenges power is resisted. Consider the fate of Bob Marley himself, who sang, “Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights.” His songs spread like fire across nations, igniting hope in the hearts of the oppressed. Yet they also stirred fear among the powerful, who sought to silence him, even by violence, for they knew that music carries a force more enduring than weapons. Ziggy understood this legacy well: when music becomes a voice for the voiceless, the mighty rarely welcome it.

History shows this same pattern in other ages. In the days of slavery, the spirituals sung by enslaved Africans in America were not welcomed by the masters, for within their harmonies lay secret messages of escape, rebellion, and divine justice. In the 20th century, folk singers and bluesmen who sang of labor rights, civil rights, and the dignity of the poor were blacklisted, censored, or cast out. The powerful have always feared songs that carry truth, because such songs cannot be bought, cannot be contained, cannot be destroyed once they take root in the soul of the people.

The meaning of Ziggy’s reflection is thus clear: reggae music, like all art that dares to call for justice, will not be readily accepted in its time. Its rhythm may be sweet, but its message is sharp. It reminds the listener that the way things are is not the way things must always be. And when people awaken to that truth, the rulers tremble. For every time a man or woman sings along to such a song, they are proclaiming, even unconsciously, that society can and must be changed.

The lesson for us is powerful. Do not despise the art that unsettles you, for it may be pointing to truths you have ignored. Do not dismiss the music of the poor or the voices from the margins, for in them often lies the seed of justice. And above all, do not let comfort make you deaf to cries for change. If the songs of reggae seem strange or rebellious, listen deeper, for within them are echoes of freedom and compassion calling to the human soul.

Therefore, O listeners, remember Marley’s wisdom: that the art which challenges is never quickly embraced, but it is often the very art the world most needs. Embrace not only what pleases your ear, but also what awakens your spirit. Let the rhythm of justice move you, let the song of freedom guide you, and let the courage of truth echo in your own words and deeds. For in doing so, you honor not only the music of reggae, but the eternal call for a better society.