PINK FLOYD: THE WALL, AND ITS HARROWING RELEVANCE
Together we stand, divided we fall.
A rewatch of Pink Floyd’s surreal rock opera The Wall on a long journey (with plenty of pondering time) gave me a stark reminder that even now, more than 40 years since its release, it remains such a striking critique of societal downsides. It unsettled me to realise how timeless this film really is, reflecting cycles of power, authoritarianism and violence that seem to echo through generations and form an undercurrent to our daily lives.
It’s a masterpiece, yet it feels eerily contemporary.
Recently, I’ve felt ill at the state of not just the world, but my doorstep too. Seeing people successfully wear their bigotry with pride in my hometown of Falkirk, watching peaceful protests be treated like military threats, and watching leaders perform their jobs like a form of pageantry. And the worst part? We’ve been here before. All of this is articulated in The Wall’s imagery; marching hammers serve as a surreal symbol of uniformity, oppression and destruction- an intimidating, brutal portrayal of how authority can sour.
In this same sequence, a performance is turned into a fascist rally; what begins as entertainment curdles into a faceless mob chanting in obedience. The imagery resonates powerfully. Today, I watch as the line between performance and politics continues to blur, political rallies are now decked out with music, lighting, chants and merchandise that leave leaders elevated by cults of personality. Give Nigel Farage 60 quid and he will say whatever you want!
Destructive authority thrives on fear, spectacle, and erasing individuality. The Wall stresses the importance of being wise to the pied pipers that try to mislead us- and does so with creativity and style.
Another Brick in the Wall, though it may be a classic single, reinforces this idea of dehumanisation and conformity. The scene shows children turned into faceless clones before they fall to their deaths in a meat grinder. When I think of this metaphor for conformity today, it applies widely: algorithm-driven sameness plagues music and fashion while mass surveillance reduces our individuality to data. I think of workplaces where humans are reduced to productivity units, I think of the bands that will inevitably go nowhere because they can’t navigate this strangely governing algorithm- and I think of the once dystopian idea that humans would upload themselves.
The Wall reminds us of our individuality; it encourages expression and creativity- things that can easily be overshadowed by our modern-day meat grinder.
The film reminds us of our humanity as well. Gruesome realist depictions of war and brutality scattered throughout the film never fail to give me a jolt. In the 21st century, brutality is both hyper-visible and normalised: livestreamed wars, mass shootings turned news loops, or police violence (shot on iPhone!). Violence has become an everyday aesthetic.
The Wall is raw; it asks viewers whether we are shocked by brutality or desensitised to it.
What makes the film so unsettlingly timeless is its refusal to offer neat resolutions. It simply challenges us to recognise these cycles and think, “Will I resist this?”. In a fractured world of polarised politics, brutality and endless streams of consumer distraction, we need thought-provoking media like this; we need open eyes. “Together we stand, divided we fall” is a call to solidarity, urging us to see beyond the wall and ask whether unity might finally break the cycle.
