Benjamin Zephaniah (1958–2023)

The ability to get so many people to chant your words is a sort of power – a power one could easily manipulate. I’ve always loved watching those preachers in the United States that have churches like mini-empires, where it seems the audience doesn’t just worship God, it worships the preacher too. I don’t like them – actually I can’t stand them – but their followers are happy to give them their money, and in some extreme cases, their lives. It amazes me what people can do with a bit of charisma and a well-delivered promise of something better than this earthly existence. I’m astonished by such preachers’ ability to perform, even when they themselves don’t believe the ideas they preach.

When I stand on stage and tell the crowd to shout, or be silent, or ‘say after me’, and they do, I realise the power we have, even more so when they are connected with an idea I had one day when I was doing something as arbitrary as getting dressed. I’ve never thought of myself as someone with my own manifesto. I’ve never wanted to start a political party or launch my kind of movement. I want to inform people about what’s going on, and I don’t mind throwing in a few suggestions as to what can be done, but most of all I want to inspire people to think for themselves. Even if I say something in my poetry that I believe to be fact, I say it because I want them to think about it and not simply take my word for it. Power can easily be abused, but I’ve never been interested in that kind of power, or the abuse of it.

Having said all that, there was a time when, mainly to shock people (who needed shocking), I would say that I started a revolutionary movement called the IRA – the Independent Rasta Army.

There is a common idea that when you go to a new country you can get a good feel for the place from taxi drivers, but I disagree; you get something from them, but it’s usually a very male-centric view. If I want to understand a country I talk to the women. Better still get to know the women. I have been to so many countries where the taxi drivers say, “Yeah, it’s great here, we’ve got freedom, we can do what we like”, and then you talk to the women and they tell the truth, “Oh no, we’re not allowed to do this, we’re not allowed to do that, and we have no freedom.” So I always say, talk to the women. In fact, I think you never really know a country until you’ve had sex in it and got arrested in it. If you’re on a quick visit, you could always have sex with the person who’s arresting you. But what do I know? This is only a theory, of course.

I say to anyone who accepts an award from the Queen and says it is ‘for their community’ – don’t keep the award, give it to the community. I knew what I did for my community, and I didn’t need a medal from the Queen to remind me. I hated the word ‘empire’, I hated the idea of empire, whether it was the Romans or the British or Christians or Muslims. In my little mind, anyone ruling over anybody else was wrong. And for those who would say that the Order of the British Empire doesn’t really have anything to do with the empire – and that it’s simply a word that’s been left attached to the award – I sat, if it’s just a word and not that important, then they can remove the word. But I still wouldn’t take it.