'Til Shiloh' 30 Years On

What do we owe the Rastafari?

I went to lunch recently with my two fellow Caribbean colleagues. One posed an important question that I still don’t quite know the answer to.

We were discussing our shared cultural isms when she asked for my thoughts on why Jamaica receives the most plaudits out of all the Caribbean countries. My initial thoughts were centred on national exceptionalism, with the famous Jamaican proverb “wii likkle but wii tallawah” ringing through my mind. Eventually, I answered that Jamaican culture is international. What I had specifically in mind was the image of the Rastafari.

This draws me to another memory. When I was in Marrakech, I was referred to as a ‘Rasta.’ I was frustrated by the ignorance because I didn’t even have locs, I had an intricate design of cainrows into plaits finished off by beads at the end. Nevertheless, the core of this memory is the epithet of ‘Rasta.’ These interactions demonstrated that the image of the Rastafari, specifically their physical presentation, has been entrenched as a perennial symbol of the black diaspora.

The subject of this post, Til Shiloh, was released in July 1995 by Jamaican artist, Buju Banton. The signature of the Rastafari is imprinted across the album. The title itself is a nod to Banton’s position as a Rastafari . ‘Shiloh’ refers to their belief in Messianism, that a saviour will deliver the Rastafari from their current affliction. Banton explained that Shiloh to him meant ‘forever’ or ‘until judgement’.

The process of writing is always an investigative feat, satisfying your intrigue to present a succinct piece which demonstrates your curiosity and a coherent argument. Writing this piece was especially difficult due to a lack of my own knowledge and not knowing where the credible sources of information lie. This dimension of the research process, continued to fuel my desire to discuss what we really owe to the Rastafari.

The Rastafari at First Glance

The genealogy of the Rastafari is fragmented. Their roots lie in an alleged speech from the famed Pan-Africanist, Marcus Garvey. In Garvey’s speech, he instructed listeners to “look to Africa, when a black king shall be crowned, for the day of deliverance is at hand.”

This was interpreted as a prophecy that came to fruition when Ras Tafari Makonnen, was crowned as the Emperor of Ethiopia in 1930. Makonnen was crowned Haile Selassie I.

This belief appeared in printed works in that same decade, such as Leonard Howell’s The Promised Key (1935), a tract which declared that Haile Selassie was the Messiah. Lowell is often referred to as the ‘First Rasta’.

The Rastafari: A Belief System of the People

In A-Level Sociology, one of my exam papers was on beliefs. A key evaluation question was, does religion encourage or inhibit social change?

Maybe it was a product of the British education system or a lack of imagination, but the Rastafari and their very valid critiques of the material conditions and racial hierarchies of the world were completely neglected. Central to the theology is petitioning for the amelioration of material conditions. It does not shy away from inequalities, rather, it seeks to explain them. One of the most notable ways is through music.

Rastafari musicians are clear in their belief that Babylon is to blame for the dismal state of the world. Babylon is condemned with phrases such as ‘bun Babylon’. Corruption is perceived as the root of the ordinary man’s suffering. Babylon is everyone and no one, it could be an individual police officer charging exorbitant prices for a speeding ticket, it could be racists upholding white supremacy with physical violence, it could be government officials extracting taxes to finance their lavish home. Babylon is any person or any system which seeks to continue the oppression of the oppressed.

Buju Banton in Til Shiloh espoused the idea that his own government is an extension of Babylon. His countrymen, his skinfolk were corrupted by Babylon and this corruption engendered the impoverishment of the masses on his island. The Rastafari does not just lament on the condition of the world. Banton conveyed a sense of hope, and this is where the album’s Pan-African nature shines. In the track Til I’m Laid to Rest; he averred that better is yet to come, that “Ethiopia awaits all prince and princess.” The Rastafari yearns to return to Ethiopia, to their Zion, to escape the clutches of Babylon. It is why he sang “there’s no lie in the West. I know the East is the best, yes,” on the same track.

There were two other songs that struck me with their Rastafari messaging, Not an Easy Road and Untold Stories. On Untold Stories Banton recounted being impoverished, and accused those in power of being able to change these conditions but refusing to. At the time Til Shiloh was released, there was a striking lack of job opportunities and the economy was in the midst of being ravished.

“Opportunity a scarce, scarce commodity”

“It’s a competitive world for low budget people, spending a dime while earning a nickel”

- Buju Banton, Untold Stories

One explanation for this can be the World Systems theory. Developed by Immanuel Wallerstein, one of the main arguments of the theory is that there is a division of labour across the world and a subsequent categorisation of states. Wallerstein argued core states dominate global trade and finance whilst periphery states are less developed with agricultural economies and lower income levels. Using this theory, Britain would be the core state and Jamaica would be the periphery state.

The implications of this exploitative system were highlighted in the 1990s on the island. From 1991 to 1995: inflation increased by 40% on average, whilst ‘job creation fizzled out.’ The Jamaican economy was in tatters, thus, it is understandable why economic hardship was such a prominent feature in Til Shiloh.

This is why the existence of the Rastafari is significant. The Jamaican population didn’t need to (and still don’t need to) read Wallerstein or other acclaimed theories on the Global North and Global South divide to understand the asymmetrical global order. They felt the divide everyday. They lived it everyday. In the 1990s, they experienced the implications of economic parasitism when they could see the lack of job opportunities, they could feel the prices rising whilst wages remain stagnant. And this is why the existence of the Rastafari is important, the theology gives a nod of acknowledgment to the ordinary man’s plight. It says “I hear you” in one breath, and provides comfort in the other with a promise of a better world.

From the shanty towns on the island in the early 20th century to the scarce few remaining today, people in Jamaica can see what is right in front of them. Baldwin said it best, “the ghetto people I am talking to, or about, are not at all stupid,” they understand the surplus of another comes at the expense of their deprivation.* Rastafari theology gives people the language to shape and express their discontent.

So, what do we owe the Rastafari?

We ought to treat it as a viable and legitimate theology. It is more than smoking marijuana, hair being styled in locs and the occasional ‘bun Babylon’. In doing so, it will also allow us to critique it. People continuing to view it through an ignorant, myopic lens means we circle around the same tired talking points when there are more important things to think about and discuss to advance Rastafarian theology and ideology.

For example, what logistics will be involved in the repatriation effort to ensure harmony between indigenous populations and settler populations? What rebuttal does the Rastafari have to the apparent fallibility of Haile Selassie I who was not only deposed but also died in the latter half of the 20th century? Why did Haile Selassie I live out his exile in England - one of the central hubs of Babylon - instead of seeking refuge amongst his black brothers and sisters?

It is being taken for granted that we are seeing burgeoning history in front of us today; Ras Tafari Makonnen was crowned a decade before my grandmother was born and he died a few months after my father was born. This is history that is alive, that is being formed before our very eyes. It’s frustrating that there is a general refusal to engage with the Rastafari further than the aesthetics.

How many people of our generation, of our parents’ generation, of our grandparents’ generation can say that they were alive when a belief system was still nascent? The belief system hasn't even existed for a century, compared to others, it is still in infancy. Being able to witness the growth of a belief system, especially with the tools at our disposal such as the internet and recorded oral histories, is an incredible privilege that we should not waste. We should be using these to our advantage to interrogate the Rastafari, to stretch their theological and political truths, to challenge them, and to credit them where necessary.

*J. Baldwin, Dark Days (1980), pp. 15