In Taiwan, music has never been just entertainment—it is a rallying cry, a language of the land, and a voice of the people. 

Since the lifting of martial law in the late 1980s, music has played a vital role in Taiwan’s democratization, finding new meaning in the streets, political rallies, and protest movements. Rally For Taiwan is a tribute to this cultural phenomenon, honouring how sound has shaped the island’s journey toward democracy and self-expression.

From campaign songs adapted from old Taiwanese folk melodies to performances by bands like TUDI-VOICE, Fire EX., and Lin Sheng-Xiang at anti-nuclear protests, anti-media monopoly rallies, and the Sunflower Movement, music is deeply embedded in the collective memory of Taiwan’s civil society. Songs carry both demands and stories—they serve as alarms of their time, stirring public awareness of injustice. The use of language in music also bears powerful symbolic weight: mother tongue music often represents a response to historical suppression and a means of reclaiming identity.

Similar cultural phenomena have emerged during pivotal political struggles around the world. In the United States, the Freedom Songs of the 1960s civil rights movement combined gospel, spirituals, and call-and-response to fuel activism and communal resolve. In Chile, the Nueva Canción (New Song) movement of the early 1970s used Andean folk traditions to resist dictatorship and cultural colonization. In South Africa, Struggle Music flourished during the 1970s and 1980s as a potent fusion of rhythm and resistance, embodying the fight against apartheid.

What sets Taiwan apart is its multilingual, multicultural soundscape. Taiwanese Hokkien, Hakka, Indigenous languages, and Mandarin co-exist within its political and artistic expression, creating a chorus of intersecting identities. Music in Taiwan is not only a tool of resistance—it is a site of cultural reconstruction and historical reckoning. Like Portugal’s Fado, Taiwan’s politically charged folk and rock music carries saudade—a longing for justice, for home, for dignity. But unlike the introspective melancholy of Fado, Taiwan’s rally music is urgent, rhythmic, and emotionally direct—crafted for the crowd, the street, and the moment.

Rally For Taiwan is not just a performance. It is a living archive—a testimony to how a people sang their way through authoritarianism and into democracy. And as the music rises again, it invites all of us to ask: when the chorus begins, will we lend our voices to the song?