Sónar and culture as a loudspeaker for political protest

Israel's disproportionate response to the 2023 terrorist attacks is causing increasing unease in Europe. The litany of images of malnourished children in Gaza, corpses lined up in makeshift hospitals, and people—including children—shot for simply seeking the scarce food available provokes rage and helplessness.

Few people defend a Hamas that subjects its hostages to prolonged captivity and exercises authoritarian control over the Gaza Strip. But that doesn't stop more and more people from daring to call the military response to this barbarity a war crime or even genocide. It is in this context that initiatives to pressure Israel, such as those of the pro-Palestinian BDS (Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions) movement, are emerging.

A boycott is legitimate when expressed through democratic channels. In the case of Sónar, the initial pressure from BDS on the scheduled artists and the resulting cancellations prompted the festival to acknowledge the pressure and, after initial lukewarm statements, to unequivocally position itself against Israel's continued aggression in Gaza.

Sónar, like other festivals, belongs to Superstruct, a firm that was itself acquired in 2024 by the KKR fund, which has significant investments in Israeli companies and, according to BDS, in activities related to the occupation of the West Bank. KKR is blacklisted by BDS.

In this context, Sónar, in addition to "condemning the genocide" in the Strip and openly distancing itself from KKR, has emphasized that its profits are not sent to the fund; starting Thursday, it has offered its main stage to debate the relationship between culture and investment funds; it has welcomed all demonstrations of support for the Palestinians; it has presented a list of sponsors without any companies targeted for boycott; and it has announced that it will allocate aid to an NGO in Gaza.

But it hasn't been enough. Sónar, after suffering dozens of cancellations (including a headliner, Arca), remains under pressure from BDS, which is urging online people to continue boycotting the festival until it "fulfills its ethical duty."

Sónar has distanced itself from its owner and openly criticizes Israel, but the boycott persists.

A festival like this is an easy and conspicuous target. BDS recommends focusing boycotts "on a relatively small number of carefully selected companies and on products with the greatest impact." Sónar and Sónar+D are prestigious brands with global reach, located in a city that is a European capital of live music and research. So the impact was guaranteed.

Using culture to amplify causes is a direct route to large audiences. Admittedly, in the wake of this crisis, cultural companies may think twice before allowing groups linked to Israel into their capital.

The BDS campaign, if successful , could also undermine KKR's attempt to whitewash its image by using live music as a showcase, as well as its strategy of betting on an emerging sector to diversify its portfolio.

But it's worth putting the real impact of this campaign into perspective. According to the Financial Times , KKR paid Providence Equity Partners €1.3 billion to acquire Superstruct, a negligible figure compared to the €582 billion value of the assets it manages. If Superstruct had to be sold off due to the cancellation of festivals, the cost would be negligible for a fund like KKR. And the reputational damage? These financial giants lack souls and are immune to criticism.

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Which leads us to ask: What if the problem goes far beyond Sónar? Is it really worth it for the artistic community, the participants in +D (Pompeu has stepped aside), the public, and Barcelona to support to the bitter end a boycott that could destroy a festival as innovative and distinctive as Sónar for so little in return? Is it coherent to fully support this campaign in a city where protests against Israel have been a minority? What would remain in Sónar's place if it were to disappear, beyond a moral victory?

Artists like Alizzz have been more thoughtful. He won't boycott, but he has used the platform to support the Palestinian cause and to call on Sónar to further distance itself from KKR. Major artists throughout history have preferred to use the microphone offered to them (even if it meant criticizing the organizer itself) rather than supporting organized campaigns.

Then there are the constructive proposals. In favor of strengthening an event that, in his opinion, "projects Barcelona as a creative and innovative city," cultural manager Jordi Sellas suggested in X that the festival be repurchased and integrated into the public sphere. It's a radical idea, but not at all far-fetched: Sónar recently established a foundation where governments interested in supporting the project can easily establish a base.

The damage that the boycott could cause to KKR is relative both financially and to its reputation.

And finally, let's talk about coherence. If being coherent with our outrage over the massacre means canceling Sónar, then it also demands making other equally coherent decisions. In a globalized economy, that means extending the boycott to many aspects of daily life: from the pension plans and investment funds we choose to what we eat, wear, watch in the movies, and even the social media platforms where we express our frustration over the attacks on Palestinians. Why does culture often have to be the primary target?

A friend who has been attending techno festivals since before the founding fathers debuted their first mixer sums it up these days: “I agree with the reasons for the boycott, and my conscience tells me not to go, but I will; humans have never been coherent beings,” she muses with melancholic resignation.