From rock star to culture warrior: the pilgrimage of Winston Marshall
Winston Marshall (Daniel DeSlover/ZUMA Wire)
The world of cancel culture seldom intersects with that of popular music: few stars are even interested in politics, let alone ready to risk their careers by courting that kind of controversy. Like most celebrities, they either can’t be bothered — or dread being bothered. Musicians who wade into the American social media scene, where extremists of Right and Left mob one another without mercy, do so at their peril. Worst of all is to get caught in the crossfire by attracting the ire of both sides. Nobody does that with impunity.
In the case of Winston Marshall, indeed, the hysterical hostility that goes with this territory has cost him dearly. The guitarist, banjo player and founding member of the folk rock band Mumford & Sons has decided to quit, following a social media frenzy over his endorsement of the conservative American journalist Andy Ngo’s book Unmasked: Inside Antifa’s Radical Plan to Destroy Democracy. That book has become a totem in the entrenched ideological warfare unleashed by and against Donald Trump, which spilled onto the streets during his presidency and last January resulted in the siege of the Capitol. That insurrection has raised the stakes and left a bitter legacy.
Marshall’s stellar musical career appears to be part of the collateral damage. Naively, he thought that praising Ngo would pass without notice, just as his comments on other books during the enforced idleness of the pandemic had done. “Congratulations,” he messaged Ngo. “Finally had time to read your important book. You’re a brave man.” Marshall had reckoned without the social media presence of the hard Left, which bombarded not only him but his band with abuse. In the US, Ngo’s book is seen by his critics, not as objective investigative journalism, but as far-Right propaganda. The author, son of Vietnamese immigrants who fled Communism, depicts the far-Left activists of Antifa as the masked footsoldiers of a hugely powerful organisation, while playing down the dangers posed by its far-Right rivals. Yet the FBI has identified white supremacists as a major terrorist threat, while Antifa’s campaigns, though sometimes violent, are seen by federal authorities as less serious. Notoriously, Trump refused to disown far-Right groups such as the Proud Boys, even when they stormed Congress in his name. Indeed, he persists in fuelling the flames by claiming that the 2020 election was rigged. Having used Unmasked as ammunition for his failed re-election campaign, Trump has caused Ngo’s critique of Antifa, whatever its merits, to become toxic.
All this explains why Winston Marshall’s post caused such outrage. After being targeted with tens of thousands of tweets by followers of Antifa, he decided to apologise to fans of Mumford & Sons. “I failed to foresee that my commenting on a book critical of the far-Left could be interpreted as approval of the equally abhorrent far-Right,” he wrote. The apology, however, only infuriated conservatives, while failing to placate those on the Left. Marshall found himself between a rock and a hard place. In order to spare his colleagues, he decided to leave the band he loved.
That band is in fact quite used to online controversy. Being photographed with Jordan Peterson, the leading academic warrior of the culture wars, had already attracted criticism from some. Marcus Mumford, the Anglo-American lead singer and songwriter, is well known not only as the husband of Carey Mulligan, but also as one of the few rock musicians who is not afraid to identify as a Christian. (His parents are the former leaders of the Vineyard Church; his brother, James, is a distinguished moral philosopher.) In their own understated way, this English band has distanced itself from the unhealthy lifestyle promoted by their industry under the auspices of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. It has headlined Glastonbury, topped the charts and achieved global fame, yet the values embodied in the songs of Mumford & Sons are unashamedly idealistic, moral and hence counter-cultural.
Even so, it would be difficult to imagine a more improbable hero for Winston Marshall than Alexander Solzhenitsyn. In his farewell to his band, he quotes Live Not By Lies, an essay by the great Russian writer and dissident, warning those who lack the courage of their convictions not to boast of being “a people’s artist”. Marshall admits that his apology for endorsing Ngo “in a small way participates in the lie that such extremism does not exist, or worse, is a force for good.” He sees his political principles as incompatible with his membership of Mumford & Sons: “For me to speak about what I’ve learnt to be such a controversial issue will inevitably bring my bandmates more trouble. My love, loyalty and accountability to them cannot permit that. I could remain and continue to self-censor but it will erode my sense of integrity. Gnaw my conscience. I’ve already felt that beginning.”
He adds: “The only way forward for me is to leave the band. I hope in distancing myself from them I am able to speak my mind without them suffering the consequences.” He says he looks forward to “new creative projects as well as speaking and writing on a variety of issues, challenging as they may be.” In reply, the other three founder members tweeted: “We wish you all the best for the future, Win, and we love you man.”
Marshall may also have been inspired to take his stand by his father, Sir Paul Marshall. As the founder (with initial funding from George Soros) of a leading hedge fund, Sir Paul is a wealthy man, said to be worth more than £600 million. A leading supporter of the Liberal Democrats until he broke with them over Europe, he was a donor to the Brexit campaign. But he is also an unusually generous philanthropist, who has given away hundreds of millions. He is a founder of the Ark chain of academies and the main backer of the online platform UnHerd. Sir Paul is a unique figure in British public life: hard to pigeonhole as a man of either Right or Left, but a staunch defender of free speech and Western civilisation.
His son is evidently a chip off the old block. Winston Marshall is only 33, but already has the makings of a distinctive voice in the public square. His experience of the cancel culture may still be raw, but it seems to have matured him. From the unlikely background of folk rock, a seasoned culture warrior is in the process of emerging. Young Winston will be worth watching.
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