Kehinde Christopher Adewumi
Introduction
There is an ongoing global energy crisis, mainly sponsored by the US-Iran war which has increasingly put tremendous strain on the global supply chain of oil. This, however, is not an isolated event. It is one out a series of crises the world has been grappling with since the year 2020. The twenty-first century has increasingly been described through the acronym VUCA – Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, and Ambiguity, a term first developed within the U.S. Army War College in the late twentieth century to describe the instability that followed the end of the Cold War (Bennett & Lemoine, 2014). Though originally military in origin, VUCA has become an interpretive framework for understanding the social, political, technological, and environmental turbulence that characterizes contemporary global life. The term has since migrated into business, education, politics, and increasingly, cultural discourse, because it aptly describes our times. Volatility means rapid change. Wars erupt quickly. Economies crash suddenly. Public emotions shift overnight. Uncertainty produces fear. People do not know what comes next. Complexity means there are rarely simple answers. Climate change, migration, artificial intelligence, and inequality intersect in ways difficult to understand. Ambiguity means meaning itself becomes unstable.
Today’s world is unmistakably VUCA. Armed conflicts such as the US-Iran war, Russia-Ukraine war and the Israel-Hamas war have reshaped political alliances and humanitarian realities. Climate disasters – from wildfires in California, Canada and Australia to floods in Pakistan, have exposed ecological precarity. Artificial intelligence is redefining labour and creativity. Added to this are inflation, mass migration, technological disruption through artificial intelligence, rising nationalism, and widespread mental health crises (UNCTAD, 2024). We are living through overlapping emergencies. In moments like this, societies often ask practical questions: How do we rebuild economies? How do we strengthen institutions? How do we prevent conflict? Yet another question deserves equal urgency: what is the role of the artist in all this? This essay argues that artists and the arts must be understood not as peripheral cultural luxuries, but as essential social actors – critical agents of memory, resistance, healing, and imagination.
The Artist as the Conscience of Society
Historically, artists have never merely decorated society; they have interpreted it, challenged it, and often healed it. The artist has long functioned as what James Baldwin once described as a “disturber of the peace” – not in the sense of creating chaos, but in refusing to allow society to become comfortable with injustice. Artists often notice what others overlook. They capture what words struggle to explain. Through images, music, poetry, theatre, dance, and digital media, the arts make visible what is invisible; pain, hope, memory, resistance, and possibility. Artists are more than image-makers. They are witnesses to history. In moments of instability, the arts’ interpretive role becomes crucial. Artists document what institutions forget. Consider contemporary Ukrainian artists producing work under bombardment, using digital media to preserve cultural memory while war continues (France24, 2026). Similarly, Palestinian artists have long used visual culture to resist erasure through acts of remembrance and testimony. This role aligns with what Azoulay (2019) calls the “civil contract of photography” – the ethical responsibility of images to bear witness. In this sense, artists function as social archivists as well as critics.
Art history demonstrates that periods of instability have always produced significant artistic responses. In this sense, the relationship between art and crisis is not new; it is foundational. During the Black Death, European visual culture shifted dramatically toward themes of mortality, suffering, and divine judgment, giving rise to works such as the Danse Macabre tradition (Huizinga, 1924). During the French Revolution, artists like Jacques-Louis David transformed painting into political propaganda and national symbolism. Modern art itself emerged partly as a response to crisis. The mechanized violence of World War I produced Dada – an anti-rational artistic revolt against modernity. The trauma of the Spanish Civil War produced Pablo Picasso’s Guernica, perhaps the twentieth century’s most iconic anti-war image. During the World War II, artists across Europe and Asia documented suffering and resilience, preserving human memory against the erasures of war (Berger, 1972). Similarly, during apartheid in South Africa, artists such as Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela transformed music into resistance. Their songs became political tools, helping to mobilize international solidarity (Coplan, 2008). Postcolonial Africa witnessed artists repositioning culture as a site of resistance and reconstruction. Writers, musicians, and visual artists challenged colonial memory and asserted new identities. In Nigeria, figures such as Fela Kuti transformed artistic production into political confrontation. Fela used Afrobeat to challenge military dictatorship and social injustice (Veal, 2000).
Artists as Agents of Light and Hope
The temptation during difficult times is to focus only on darkness. But artists are uniquely positioned to be agents of light. This does not mean pretending suffering does not exist. It means refusing to allow suffering to have the final word. During the COVID-19 pandemic, when much of the world was isolated, artists stepped forward. Italian musicians played from balconies in Rome and Milan (Thorpe, 2020). Museums opened digital collections. Theatre companies streamed performances online. Street artists painted murals honouring healthcare workers. Arts and Health practitioners used artistic means to intervene in health communications. These acts did not solve the pandemic, but they helped millions cope emotionally (UNESCO, 2021). It is therefore important to stress that hope is not naïve optimism but a deliberate act of discipline, resilience and imagination.
In a volatile world as we currently have it, artists must become more than commentators; they must become cultural navigators and totems of hope, truth and accountability. This is why philosopher Martha Nussbaum argues that the humanities and arts cultivate empathy and democratic citizenship (Nussbaum, 2010). In unstable times, empathy is not a luxury; it is survival.
To function meaningfully in a VUCA world, artists must strategically reposition themselves. First, artist must reclaim public relevance. They must reject the outdated notion that art belongs only in galleries.Public murals, protest performances, digital installations, and socially engaged practices place art back in civic life. Second, technological hybridity must be embraced.Artificial intelligence presents both threat and opportunity. Rather than resisting technological change, artists must shape its ethical use. As Epstein et al. (2023) argue, generative AI should be understood not as the end of art, but as a new medium requiring critical stewardship. Third, artists should strive to cultivate interdisciplinary alliances. Artists should work with psychologists, urban planners, climate scientists, and educators. The future belongs to collaborative creativity. Finally, stakeholders in the creative industry must advocate for cultural policy. The creative economy contributes significantly to national GDP and social wellbeing, yet arts funding remains precarious globally (UNCTAD, 2024). This contradiction must be challenged. There is danger when artists retreat into silence. Silence may appear neutral, but in unstable times it often benefits power. When artists stop asking difficult questions, propaganda fills the vacuum. When cultural institutions become afraid, public imagination shrinks. History teaches this clearly. Authoritarian regimes often target artists first—not because art is weak, but because art is powerful. Books are banned. Musicians are jailed. Films are censored. Murals are erased.
To conclude, artists in Africa must recognize the urgency of VUCA reality. Many African societies have long lived with volatility – colonial disruption, economic instability, political transitions, insurgencies, and climate vulnerabilities. Yet African artists have consistently transformed adversity into creative innovation. From the protest music of Fela Kuti and Angelique Kidjo to contemporary visual practices addressing migration and identity, African artists continue to shape global conversations. Nigeria’s #EndSARS protests showed this vividly. Music, street murals, poetry, and digital art became central tools of protest and memory.
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