ABSTRACT
In April 2003, shortly after the outbreak of war between the United States and Iraq, the Hollywood actor and activist Tim Robbins reported on a case of post-9/11 censorship: “A famous middle-aged rock-and-roller called me last week to thank me for speaking out against the war, only to go on to tell me that he could not speak himself because he fears repercussions from Clear Channel. ‘They promote our concert appearances,’ he said. ‘They own most of the stations that play our music. I can’t come out against this war.’” 1 This description of censorship in our times has two striking features. First, the restriction felt by the musician is not the result of a public body of censors (with links, say, to the State); and second, the artist is not receiving the direct attentions of a censor (who overtly supervises his/her public pronouncements). Thus we find two common ideas associated with censorship challenged: (1) that censorship properly belongs to the public domain; and (2) that the public operation of regulation and control is properly framed by a legal principle, which directly sanctions censored activities. That is, the apparatus of regulation must be publicly recognized; its field of operation officially authorized. 2 A state ban on the exposure of women’s breasts on public television, for example, would count as an uncontroversial case of (principled?) censorship. In this restricted sense of the term—censorship construed as a legally sanctioned public ban—the attacks of September 11, 2001, did not result in any new censorship of music in the United States.
