A version of this essay was first published on Medium.
When I was 24 years old, I co-founded the Tibetan Freedom Concerts, which became one of the largest concert series for freedom in history. That experience taught me something I still believe thirty years later: Music cannot free a country on its own. Only people can do that through organizing, persistence, and strategy. But music can help ready us for that work because it helps us feel what is at stake, imagine freedom together, and find the courage and energy to keep going.
I learned this first as a teenager, watching U2 at Red Rocks on a worn-out VHS tape. Bono moved through the fog with a white flag while the crowd chanted against oppression and violence. I did not have the language for it then, but I felt it: music could make people feel less alone, more alive, and more ready to care about something beyond themselves.
Years later, that lesson shaped how I did my work for Tibet. At the time, most people knew very little about Tibet. They did not know Tibetans were living under Chinese occupation. They did not know people were being imprisoned for raising their flag, practicing their religion, or singing their songs of freedom. Politicians were not exactly lining up to make Tibet a priority either.
So we tried another way in: through culture. That meant building spaces where music, Tibetan voices, fashion, political information, and simple next steps could all meet.
The Tibetan Freedom Concerts were not traditional benefit concerts. We called them “message concerts” because the goal was not simply to raise money. It was to move people into awareness, solidarity, and action.
That shaped everything: the flags, Tibetan artists, monks, nuns, former political prisoners, student organizers, action tables, and hundreds of volunteers helping concertgoers understand that “Free Tibet” was not just a slogan. It was a call to action.
But the concerts were also full of joy. People came for the bands, their friends, the dancing or moshing, depending on your scene, and the feeling of being part of something bigger. The joy did not distract from the seriousness of Tibet’s struggle. It helped people stay open to it.
The music opened the door. And people walked through.
Many arrived knowing almost nothing about Tibet. By the end of the weekend, they were signing petitions, asking questions, committing to organizing on campuses, and finding their own way into the work of nonviolent action. The concerts moved people from not knowing, to caring, to acting.
In a moment when so many of us feel overwhelmed, isolated, or unsure
how to fight for our own freedom or support others fighting for theirs, music can still help us find each other and return to the work with more strength.
The audio documentary, Freedom Needs a Soundtrack, tells the story of the Tibetan Freedom Concerts. It is also about why music has mattered in freedom struggles across time, how culture and nonviolent action can work together, and how songs and stories can still move us to act now.
People do not just need more information. We need connection. We need joy that helps us keep going. We need reminders that freedom is possible, and that none of us has to fight for it alone.
That is why freedom needs a soundtrack.
Listen to the first episode of Freedom Needs a Soundtrack and subscribe wherever you get your podcasts.