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133 

BOB MARLEY AND “BLACK” CIVILISATION: THE QUESTION 

OF CRITERIA 
 

Emaeyak Peter Sylvanus 

Department of Music, University of Nigeria, Nsukka 

Email: emaeyak.sylvanus@unn.edu.ng 

 

 

Abstract 

This article explores Bob Marley’s music and (Black) civilisation, not necessarily to 

denounce it but, rather, reflect on what really its objectives were, its assumptions, 

history, and horizons of possibility. This approach, thus, begs the question of criteria. 

And so, we are concerned to know what Black civilisation was and, within the context of 

Bob Marley’s music and persona, the perceived expectations of our own limits, horizons, 

and opportunities. In other words, the goal here is to interrogate our understanding of 

Black civilisation, as well as what that civilisation has made of Black people and their 

musical art. To do so, I will explore and synthesise the overriding constituted and 

perceived themes of Black consciousness in Bob Marley’s music alongside a review of the 

extant literature on (Black) civilisation.   

Keywords: Bob Marley, Black civilisation, music, the question of criteria 

 

Author’s Bio 

Emaeyak P. Sylvanus is a senior lecturer and former Head of Music at the University of 

Nigeria, Nsukka. He holds a PhD in Music from City, University of London, UK. His 

research interests straddle popular music, film music, and Ethnomusicology. As the 

pioneer scholar on Nollywood film music, Dr. Sylvanus has contributed several articles to 

high-impact journals in the arts, humanities and social sciences. His ongoing projects 

include film music archives and archiving practices in Nigeria, as well as an extensive 

study of the interplay of popular music and aspects of public culture in Nigeria. He is 

presently the Associate Editor of the Journal of the Musical Arts in Africa. 

 

Introduction 

The decision to re-engage and reframe the issue of civilisation within the context of 

Black music should generate some predictable responses, including umbrage and 

resistance. Does Black civilisation exist? If so, where does it reside? Is it in the music 

of Black people? Is it constituted or a mere perception? To be clear, the aim here is not 

to denounce Black civilisation but, rather, reflect on what really its objectives were, its 

assumptions, history, and horizons of possibility. This, in part, requires that we critically 

engage the question of criteria.  

 

Theoretically, I am indebted to David Scott for his notion of the “problem space,” which 

is brilliantly articulated in his book, Conscripts of Modernity (2004). Scott’s is a major 

work of post-colonial/Caribbean thought that is surreptitiously classic of Black futurism 

or futurity in the sense that it is about how we understand the future following historical 



 

 
  

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events and texts, as well as how we evaluate them given their frontiers from “the tangible 

ruins of our present” (p. 29).  The “problem space” is more or less about temporality and 

the subtle shifts therein. It is also about goals and expectations and the slow, arduous 

socio-political reality/transformation that the imagined revolutionary aspirations of 

many Black societies encourage. What then is the implication of this for our argument 

here? 

 

To make Black civilisation a “problem space” therefore is to engage its historicity, which 

is often amorphous and, arguably, susceptible to re-signification – never being quite what 

it was supposed to be, and yet always potentially becoming. It is to accept Black 

civilisation as something very fluid: a constantly-shifting conjuncture of movements and 

affects, questions and answers, constructions and de-constructions, which are made 

possible through institutions, ideologies like cancel culture, icons such as Bob Marley, and 

all the interminable advances of modern time.  

 

For many decades, the metastasising notion called Pan-Africanism has not yielded the 

goals, values and commitments that could produce a creed for the Black race. By contrast, 

this has sustained a strange counterpoint to the institutionalising of Black (African) ideas 

and criticism in academia and pop culture in general. If so, there is a need to engage the 

institutionalisation (alternatively, appropriation or co-optation) of ideas and criticism of 

society and its values, particularly within Black musical arts and pop culture.  I personally 

wonder if Pan-Africanism and/or Black civilisation is due less to their current station or 

stature, but more to the anxieties of a Black intelligentsia that is uncertain of its 

relevance in the face of fragmenting social realities and disciplinary and socio-political 

concerns – all of which is steered by that omnipresent and powerful force of 

intellectualism. 

 

Contextualising civilisation 

Before launching into a discussion of Bob Marley and any nexus between him, his life and 

works and Pan-Africanism or Afrocentrism, it is necessary to establish some context for 

the term “civilisation” and its meaning. In many of his published works, Mohandas K. 

Gandhi frequently refers to the concept of “civilisation,” which he categorises as both 

“modern” and “ancient”. He identifies and links the former (to which we all belong) with 

the industrial and technological advancement of the Global North that had, in his view, 

reduced them to a state of “cultural anarchy.” Gandhi’s opinions on the subject of 

civilisation changed considerably over time. In 1906, after the Boer War and under the 

British administration of South Africa, he organised protests against the segregationist 

Black Act and the subsequent Asiatic Law Amendment Act on the basis of “the universal 

values of civilisation” (discussed in Du Toit 2005). The phrase “universal values of 

civilisation” is instructive for our own conversation here, in part, because it suggests that 

there is only one civilisation – the human civilisation. In other words, civilisation should 

not be categorised and indeed discussed within the pieties of racial distinctiveness. If 

this is accepted, then the polysemy “Black Civilisation” becomes philosophically 

problematic: What does it really mean and represent? How is such a civilisation 

authentically Black, and by what parameters? Who has or has not decided on it, and why? 



 

 
  

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Are the universal (and underpinning) values of civilisation, including the right to life, 

equity and justice, social order, freedom of expression, as well as the right to scientific 

exploration and artistic development, exclusively Black?  

 

Perhaps, to drive home the point I should reference Edward Carpenter’s (1921) text 

Civilisation: Its Cause and Cure wherein he elaborates on Max Nordau’s analogy between 

civilisation and disease. Carpenter argues that civilisation would have the same 

destructive effect on people living closer to nature (i.e., the underdeveloped regions of 

the world) in much the same way as the sicknesses brought to them by the colonisers. 

For Carpenter, this condition is linked to the desire for nations of the Global North to 

realise a consciousness of “the self” – one which is backed by both the Delphic aphorism 

“Man, Know Thyself” and the advent of money in Graeco-Roman society (Carpenter 1921: 

24–25). Enter Carpenter (1921:4–5):  

 

The growth of wealth, it is shown, and with it the conception of private property, brought 

on very definite forms of social life; it destroyed the ancient system of society based 

on the gens, that is a society of equals founded upon blood-relationship, and introduced 

a society of classes founded upon differences of material possession; it destroyed the 

ancient system of mother-right and inheritance through the female line, and turned the 

woman into the property of the man.  

 

Using Greece as an example, the Homeric age and the myth of the Golden Age gave way 

to an aristocratic or timocratical culture as evident in the conservative social thinking of 

Plato and this in turn degenerated into a disorderly world in which the mob ruled. 

Consequently, society descended into “caucuses and cackle, competition and universal 

greed, breaking out in cancerous tyrannies and plutocracies –a mere chaos and confusion 

of society” (pp. 32–33).  

 

In Carpenter’s analysis, the Homeric and Spartan Greeks occupied the position of 

“advanced barbarism” (p. 6), while the Matabele in Africa, for example, who were 

relatively unaffected by civilisation, were at the middle stage. Carpenter’s essay then 

proceeds to document the extraordinary physical strength of these African people and 

their great social cohesion. He notes a “loss of unity” in societies that progress to a 

higher plane and traces the similarities between this process and scientific accounts of 

disease within living organisms and within the cosmos. If, by inference, this ancient 

African civilisation is what Black civilisation implies, then it is a regression. Conversely, a 

progression would focus on a discourse of African values and thoughts, industrial and 

technological explorations, as well as cultural expressions and their broad implications 

for our (post)modern society. It is within this “progression” that we can advance thoughts 

on Black civilisation in relation to Bob Marley.  In what follows, I present an overview of 

the life and music of Bob Marley and, consequently, show how the man and his 

music/struggle might be linked to such aspects as social structure, social identity, and 

Afrocentrism. 

 

 



 

 
  

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Overview of the life, music, and times of Bob Marley 

In a narrative of Jamaican trailblazer and reggae genre icon, Bob Marley, it is critical to 

note that his legacies portray a larger-than-life image – one that spans uncompromisingly 

anti-authoritarian revolt and liberation. Robert Nesta Marley was born at the Victoria 

Jubilee Hospital in Kingston, the capital of Jamaica on 10 February 1943, to Cynthia 

Llewellyn and Norval Sinclair Marley, and died on 11 May 1981 in Florida, USA. The 

circumstances that shaped his childhood and early development, including poverty and 

poor parenting, inadvertently worked to manifest his prodigy to the world. Bob Marley 

ended his formal education in 1959 after attending several schools. He invested his time 

playing football, hanging out with friends, and gradually demonstrating an interest in 

music. In 1960, Bob Marley began to develop his musical talent with his close friend 

Bunny.  Bob and Bunny began studying the art of singing with the Jamaican recording 

artist Joe Higgs who offered them singing lessons, and would later add Peter Tosh (born 

MacIntosh) to the group. Their singing style was imitative of Fats Domino, Louis Jordan, 

and the harmonies of Curtis Mayfield’s Impressions (1963).  

 

At age sixteen, Bob Marley had his first musical breakthrough. He sang for producer 

Leslie Kong, who issued his first recordings, Judge Not (1962), One Cup of Coffee (1962), 

and Terror (1962), on the Beverley’s imprint.  Under the name The Wailing Wailers, the 

group (Bob, Peter, and Bunny) released the single Simmer Down (1964), which brought 

them considerable success in Jamaica in 1963.  They also recorded for one of the three 

biggest producers of Jamaican popular music on the island, Clement Coxsone Dodd. The 

Wailing Wailers continued to have success with a series of solid-selling singles until the 

end of 1965 when it became evident that Bob was the natural front man for the group. 

This led to friction and broke up the original three-member group. Early in the year, Bob 

met Rita Anderson (Alpharita Constantia Anderson), whom he soon married and had three 

children, excluding many other children he had outside his relationship with Rita. 

 

In terms of musical output, and considering his short earthly life, Marley arguably 

outworked, outdid, and out-famed his contemporaries. He is identified as the direct 

forerunner of the global hip hop revolution and the face of roots reggae music. 

Consequently, his rhythm section pioneered the standard roots reggae groove named “one 

drop” rhythm. To be clear, One Drop rhythm differs from the type found in, say, the 

American rock and roll music. So, whereas the first may be achieved when the drummer 

accents only the third beat of a four-beat measure, the second typically accents the 

first and third beats. With most of his songs in standard verse-and-chorus form, 

Marley’s prolific and imaginative music and lyrics maintain incredible cohesion. 

Interestingly, Bob Marley was involved in all aspects of the creation of his music:  from 

composing for all musical instruments and penning down the lyrics to editing and 

overdubbing processes that yielded the final product (see Farley 2006; Moskowitz 

2007).  

 

Commercially, Bob Marley influenced the marketing model of reggae through his first act 

of releasing a full-length LP. A change in the production, commodification and marketing 



 

 
  

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processes of reggae music soon followed between 1972 and 1973 with the release of 

Catch a Fire. In the succeeding years, the album became universally accepted as the first 

genuine reggae album in history.  Beyond its commercial impact, Marley’s music has a 

universal quality that transcends race, colour, economic class, and language. In analysing 

Marley’s global appeal, Gilroy (2005) argues that “attention should be placed . . . upon the 

processes and mechanisms of identification. Do people connect themselves and their 

hopes with the mythic figure of Bob Marley as a man, as a Jamaican, a Caribbean, an 

African or pan-African artist? He was somehow all of the above and yet more” (p. 240). 

Within Marley’s oeuvre, it is evident that he has established a canon that historians and 

social scientists can examine to find rich deposits of information. Small wonder Marley 

is heralded as the first international Third World superstar, and frankly the only such 

star of his calibre.  

 

Over the years, Marley’s impact and legacy have been signified by, amongst other means, 

the sheer quantity of records sold. Also, Marley was awarded the Jamaican Order of 

Merit and inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He has a star on the Hollywood 

Walk of Fame and has received the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.  Irrespective 

of these and many other awards, it has been argued that time remains the true test of 

Marley’s worth. Four decades after his death (1981-2021), Marley’s influence remains 

astounding. He had such a great significance and influence that his attempted 

assassination in 1976 was arguably politically motivated. This possibly explains why he is 

globally likened to a prophet, peacemaker, mystic, and universal symbol of true love.  

Thus, as we evaluate Bob Marley’s legacy, there is a need to consider the elaborate 

profile that he constructed through his music. One of the underpinnings of that profile 

is the narrative of exile from and return to Africa, which has since become a dominant 

theme in African-Jamaican reggae songs.  

 

Like Bob Marley, nearly all reggae songwriters and artists rely on one of the key tenets 

of Rastafarianism, which is that Africans are Israelites. Ontologically, this ideology 

subsists in interpretations of the Bible (e.g., 1 Kings 10:13). In other words, Rastafarians 

(or Ras/Rastas) believe that Jah (the short for Jehovah or Yahweh) will protect his 

chosen people in their exile, grant them victory over their perceived enemies, as well as 

deliver them from white captivity or in contemporary times white supremacy (which, in 

the music, is metaphorically Babylon) and aiding their return to Africa. In essence, Africa 

is Zion, the place where Jah resides, and the promised land to which liberated Black 

people will return. Africa, therefore, is symbolic of paradise and of the ideals of 

liberation and freedom; it is the place of origin and place of return; a pre-colonial world 

as well as a better world to come; a faraway past and a yet an extended present. It is 

“homeland” not only in a physical sense, but also and more so in a psychological and deeply 

spiritual sense. If so, there is a need for some criteria for rationalising the link between 

Rastafarianism (the embodiment of whom was and still is Bob Marley) and postmodern 

civilisation. 

 

The Question of criteria 



 

 
  

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Globally, the degree of reggae’s popularity is significant, and Black Africans are arguably 

among the biggest consumers of reggae per capita, particularly of Bob Marley’s music. 

This offers useful insight into notions of transculturalism, identity and representation 

in relation to reggae’s adoption and localisation in other contexts. For this reason, I shall 

propose some parameters for nuancing these insights. Reggae genre, particularly roots 

reggae which Bob Marley promoted, owes its status as a “roots” music to African-

Jamaicans (the descendants of African slaves transported to Jamaica as labourers on 

sugarcane plantations) who use this genre to articulate their African cultural roots. 

These roots are celebrated in band names (e.g., The Ethiopians and The Congos), in the 

lyrics of numerous reggae songs (e.g., Marley’s War (1977), Africa Unite, and Zimbabwe), 

and on album covers (depicting, for example, the African continent, African fauna, its 

people and the flags of various African nations).  

 

Many reggae musicians have utilised various symbolic markers of Africanity (i.e., 

practices and symbols for which Africanness has been attributed or recognised) in order 

to construct and express African identities. These African signifiers can be loosely 

categorised into four types: the musical, symbolic, cultural, and linguistic (each of which 

will be discussed). For brevity, the reading of these symbols is deliberately narrow, 

focusing only on their potential African meanings. The position adopted here is somewhat 

extreme, and does not account for the semiotic ambiguity of these signifiers. I should 

emphasise here too that these signifiers can have a variety of meanings and 

applications—many (even most) of which bear no African associations whatsoever and, 

hence, the need to approach them as “universal truths” that serve a civilisation that is 

non-racial and non-categorical. For a deeper understanding of these identity signifiers, 

I should address the philosophical notion of identity itself. The following are some of my 

thoughts on identity, which I have articulated elsewhere (e.g., Sylvanus 2019; 2020).   

 

Identity has remained a fundamental subject matter in many disciplines. The earliest 

philosophers considered identity to be the First Law of Thought. Identity derives from 

the Latin idem meaning “the same.” But “the same” is not necessarily the meaning of 

identity. It would appear that the meaning of identity as a core and integrated 

phenomenon subsists in the word’s own etymology. Logically, identity presupposes itself. 

In other words, it makes sense to argue about the uniqueness of “self” with reference 

to “otherness.” But the word uniqueness is indicative of difference. Therefore, things 

are self-identical because, to an appreciable extent, they differ from other equally self-

identical entities. My understanding is that both sameness and difference are essential 

to the importance of identity. As such, sameness cannot be adequately discussed without 

reference to difference. Yet identity neither strictly means sameness nor difference. 

My position is that identity is sameness, difference, and everything in-between, which 

then supports its discussion from two fronts: identity-in-sameness and identity-in-

difference. In this sense, identity becomes a matter of agency wherein difference is not 

the opposite of sameness but rather the absence of it. As an issue of agency, and 

according to Anthony Giddens, the study of identity has elicited paradigmatic shifts: 

first as “self-fashioning, agentive, internal project of the self;” then, as “the 

understandings of social and collective identity;” and lastly, the postmodern accounts 



 

 
  

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that treat identity as “fluid, fragmentary, contingent and, crucially, constituted in 

discourse” (Giddens 1990: 31). 

 

So, the meaning of identity inheres in the three paradigm shifts. It is interesting that 

identity as a “project of the self” has endured centuries of human intellectualism. From 

a sociological perspective, and as a reflexive project between the self and others, 

Giddens argues that identity has to be routinely created and sustained, constantly having 

to be explored and constructed as part of the reflexive process of connecting personal 

and social change. This implies that human beings are actively involved in constructing 

and de-/reconstructing their identities as their social circumstances change. More so, 

this self-versus-other occupation reflects not only the bifurcation between individual 

and group (or collective) identities but also the degree of tension in identity formation. 

Such tensions make identity both pluralistic and fluid in nature.  

 

Accordingly, we can speak of multiple individual and collective as well as relative and 

partial (African) identities. According to Edward Spicer, identity is a two-way adversarial 

process that often produces “persistent identity systems” (Spicer 1971: 797). Spicer 

uses the word “persistent,” which is, in my opinion, particularly instructive because, unlike 

sameness, the realm of difference is broad, boundless, and somewhat unreliable. So, 

within the context of this lecture, a persistent (African) identity system can only 

materialise when properties of identity (including internal material harmony, intensity, 

diversity, and reliability) are more or less the same (or identical) over time. 

 

In a discourse of this kind, culture cannot be overlooked. For many theorists of identity, 

the concept of culture in identity or identity in culture provides a link between 

individualism, a sense of sameness/difference, and collectivism. What then is cultural 

identity? Cultural identity has been examined in two ways: as shared culture, which 

provides us with a stable, unchanging, and continuous frame of reference and meaning, 

and secondly, according to Stuart Hall, as “what we really are,” “what history has done 

[to us],” “what we have become,” and “the way we position ourselves within the narratives 

of the past” (Hall 1990: 223). It is in this sense that we can consider an African (musical) 

identity that is based on a continent’s shared history; but more important, how that itself 

has been positioned within the narratives of “African/Black music” as a response to 

what/who we really are and/or what we have become. To fully grasp this statement, we 

should have an idea of how these underpinning notions of identity have been theorised in 

music generally. 

 

In Musical Identities, for instance, MacDonald et al., (2002) discuss the functions of 

music and the resulting identities from music and musical processes. Specifically, the 

authors’ attempt to differentiate between “musical identities” and “identity in music” is 

clear. The former (from which the book takes its title) implies process: the means by 

which a musician constructs their identity. The latter (identity in music) suggests that 

culture is an important factor in defining (social) identity especially through 

categorisations of music. Both tiers and postulations promote a dichotomy of identity 

between the “individual” (of creative intentions and skill acquisition) and the “communal” 



 

 
  

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(of collective thoughts on musical form, as well as social values and norms). By that 

formulation, it can be argued that (African) identity in the reggae music context can 

either originate from the singular or the collective. And so, the construction of singular 

and collective identities is a form of understanding and critiquing “who we are”—

something that happens when such identities require modification or are being modified. 

Below are some of the identity signifiers and practices that can be used in the 

construction and expression of black identities beyond the current context. 

 

African Identity signifiers in Reggae 

Music 

Although reggae musicians across the world have localised the reggae genre in important 

ways, this article focuses solely on the African musical signifiers that are present in 

locally produced reggae, as it is these that have potentially enabled the practitioners to 

form transcultural and transnational links with Africans (and, by extension, with Black 

people in the diasporas). Reggae is often used as a generic term to describe Jamaican 

popular music produced since the 1960s, for example, one-drop, rocksteady, ska, rockers, 

lovers, dancehall and dub. To be more precise, reggae is the form of Jamaican music that 

was most popular from around 1969 to 1983, a period that has been subdivided into the 

early reggae period (1969–1974) and the roots reggae period (1975–1983). 

 

I am primarily concerned with the roots reggae style, which was globally popularised by 

artists such as Bob Marley. This particular style of reggae synthesised elements derived 

from many different musical styles, including: American rock ‘n’ roll, funk, rhythm and 

blues, jazz, country and western, blues, soul, gospel and Latin American; Trinidadian 

Calypso; Jamaican African-influenced traditional and folk forms, such as revival, kumina, 

Rastafarian nyabinghi drumming, etu, gombay, jonkunnu, pocomania; as well as Jamaican 

popular music such as mento, ska and rocksteady. The musical origins of roots reggae, 

therefore, lie predominantly in African-American and African-Jamaican genres. 

 

Roots reggae features several African musical signifiers, making it an ideal vehicle for 

the expression and construction of African cultural roots. Hand drumming is perhaps the 

key musical signifier of Africa and a crucial element of Rastafarian nyabinghi ceremonies 

where such nyabinghi drums as funde, akete and bass dominate reggae music and give it 

its characteristic rhythmic patterns. Other African musical retentions that can be found 

in reggae include the use of polyrhythms; call-and-response vocal interaction between 

the lead and backing vocalists; and the predominance of minor tonalities that are arguably 

derived from the pentatonic scales used in African traditional music. 

 

Symbols 

The visual symbolism that is associated with reggae depicts colours and characters 

derived from flags, which function as important markers of identity. For example, the 

tri-colour of the red, gold and green along with the Lion of Judah symbol that is derived 

from the Ethiopian national flag signify Rastafarians’ Ethiopian identity. The colour black, 

derived from Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) flag 

has also become associated with both the Rastafarian movement and reggae. Scholars 



 

 
  

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such as Chevannes (1995) have argued that these colours offer meanings that strengthen 

the notion of “Africanness”: black is said to “symbolise the African people, red their 

blood, green Africa’s verdant vegetation and gold Africa’s mineral wealth” (pp. 15–16). 

These colours are commonly seen on items of clothing such as T-shirts and tams (knitted 

hats), which many ardent reggae listeners, musicians and sponsors wear. These symbols 

help to articulate aspects of African nationalism, the efforts on and around 

decolonisation, freedom from neo-colonial oppression, as well as connect their struggle 

to that of Africans and black peoples worldwide. In this way, these symbols become 

important in constructing a transcultural link between people who share a love of reggae 

music and/or subscribe to the music’s spiritual and socio-political messages. 

 

The Hair  

Another key signifier for our conversation is the hair. Scholars have purported various 

origins for the practice of wearing Dreadlocks (uncut and uncombed hair), including the 

idea that this hairstyle was adopted in the 1940s as the result of African-Jamaicans 

seeing photographs of Africans variously identified as Kenyan Mau Mau freedom 

fighters, Somalis, and Masais or Ethiopian monks (Chevannes 1995: 77). The perceived 

African origins of this practice enabled African-Jamaicans who adopted this practice to 

affirm and strengthen their ties to their African cultural roots. For some Rastafarians, 

the wearing of dreadlocks is not (only) a continuation of an African cultural tradition, but 

a practice redolent with African symbolic meaning: a visual representation of a lion’s mane 

and/or the crown worn by Ethiopia’s Haile Selassie at his coronation. Such African 

associations make the wearing of dreadlocks, among its many possible significations, a 

signifier of African identity. Moreover, this distinctive hairstyle contravenes Western 

European hair-grooming practices (that is to say, cutting, combing and washing with 

shampoo and conditioner). Thus, the wearing of dreadlocks continually plays a part in the 

social othering of Whites and the construction of Black identities. 

 

Language and Texted Music  

To nuance this signifier, we necessarily must implicate Dread Talk, Jamaican patois and 

accents. Many reggae artists have adopted elements from Dread Talk (also termed Rasta 

Talk, I-ance or I-yaric), which is the Rastafarian jargon disseminated by popular reggae 

artists such as Bob Marley (Chevannes 1995: 128). Dread Talk has three key 

characteristics, all of which can be found in most Nigerian/African reggae song lyrics: 

the use of Biblical proverbs and terminology; the modification of English words (e.g., 

using downpressor instead of oppressor, because ‘op’ sounds like up, thereby implying 

that oppression is positive); and the use of the first-person pronoun ‘I’ in place of all 

other pronouns.  In addition to using Dread Talk, some Nigerian reggae musicians have 

adopted the Jamaican patois and even used Jamaican accents in their pronunciation of 

song lyrics.  

 

The use of Dread Talk is prevalent in songs written and performed by Rastas. For many 

reggae bands, Dread Talk plays a vital role in the expression and construction of their 

Rastafarian identity. I should, however, note that non-Rastafarian reggae musicians also 

use certain words and phrases derived from this lexicon, which indicates that Dread Talk 



 

 
  

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is, to some extent, an intrinsic element of reggae. In addition to enabling such musicians 

to articulate their Rastafarian religious affiliation, these linguistic elements can foster 

other forms of belonging: a transcultural identification with African-Jamaicans, or, in a 

broader sense, belonging to the reggae fan community or to a group of like-minded people 

who share the ecological, Afrocentric, and/or socio-political views expressed in reggae 

songs. African/black transcultural identification is thus made possible, not only via the 

use of Dread Talk, but also and more so through the subject matter of several reggae 

songs.  

 

Specifically, the lyrics of many of these songs (e.g., Ras Kimono’s Under Pressure) discuss 

the political causes of Africans and indigenous peoples, and express a sense of solidarity. 

Poverty, as well as its cause and effects, is a key theme in many reggae songs. Some songs 

draw attention to the enormous disparity in the distribution of, say, Nigeria’s national 

income between a wealthy minority and a poor majority, and speak of high unemployment, 

poor working conditions and low wages.  While some song texts highlight the people’s 

inability to afford food, shelter and education, others discuss crime, police brutality and 

civil unrest. With respect to Nigerian and indeed other African reggae listeners and 

performers for whom their socio-economic and physical locations are similar to those of 

African-Jamaicans in Kingston, this similarity promotes a transcultural affiliation of 

shared values and struggles.  

 

Conclusion 

This article set out to interrogate Black identity or civilisation in relation to music of 

Bob Marley. As Bob Marley sings in Redemption Song (1980), “[he] who feels it knows it 

Lord,” some contemporary reggae musicians possess such feeling and knowing – one that 

corroborates Hooks’ (1991) notion of the “authority of experience”. The authority of 

experience clearly underpins their affinity with Jamaican roots reggae. And it is on the 

aforementioned criteria that we have discussed a notion of African identity through Bob 

Marley’s works and its implications for civilisation in the postmodern era.  

 

 

References 

Carpenter, E. (1921). Civilisation: Its Cause and Cure, and Other Essays. London: George  

 Allen & Unwin. 

Chevannes, B. (1995). Rastafari: Roots and Ideology. Kingston: Syracuse University  

 Press. 

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