Ukrainian Orthodoxy		Orthodoxie ukrainienne

The Revolutionary Lyrics of Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida”

Dr. Alexander Roman alex.roman@unicorne.org

It was during the graduation ball at St Andrew’s school here in Toronto that I first witnessed the youthful excitement over the British rock band Coldplay’s hit single, “Viva la Vida.” 

Styled as “Baroque Pop,” the #1 rated song and its rock video has won awards and critical acclamations for the band that is currently on its North American tour.  It is often the case that the lyrics of pop songs are so much window dressing with the catchy tune and swinging beat being the only real focus for the avid fans.  But the lyrics of this song reveal something quite fascinating.

Surprisingly, Viva la Vida is not about romantic love at all.  It is, in fact, about King Louis XVI’s final days prior to his execution by beheading at the height of the terror of the French Revolution.  As with all art, the lyrics reflect the band’s perspective on the Revolution and also on religion in general in the context especially of the remarks by the band’s vocalist, Chris Martin, given during interviews.

The melancholy song begins with Martin taking the place of King Louis himself as he reflects on how mighty he once was and to what a low estate he has fallen (“I used to rule the world, seas would rise when I gave the word, Now I sleep alone, sweep the streets I used to own . . .”).

Next comes King Louis’ shock at how the French revolutionaries clamoured for his “head on a silver plate” and, given his suffering and humiliation, “Who would ever want to be king?” 

The song’s refrain is a decidedly religious one, “I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing, Roman cavalry choirs a singing, be my mirror, my sword and shield, my missionaries in a foreign field . . . for some reason I can’t explain, I know St Peter won’t call my name . . .”

For Chris Martin, King Louis was a bad king who knows it and who knows that after his “deserved” execution he will have to face the consequences of his bad life by experiencing the eternal anguish of not being “on the list” of the saved.  Eternal damnation is also an aspect of religious belief that Martin, who said he studied all about religion, still finds unsettling.

What these comments reveal is that there can certainly be a real “disconnect” between studying religions academically as opposed to experiencing religious spirituality and theology.  It is like the professor of biblical studies I knew who could quote scriptural verses at length, but who, as he said, didn’t believe in God . . .

Discussions on religion versus non-religion will continue as long as there are funded academic and other forums to host them (including public transit signs, it would seem).

Coldplay introduces a subtle, but important contribution to this entire discussion by highlighting the need for the acknowledgement that perspectives on historic events are subjectively rooted.  What we think about this or that event in history, social or religious, is a set of choices WE as individuals make because . . . we want to make them. 

They reflect our own development and the influence over us of our personal and cultural context.  And it cannot be otherwise.  The only piece of this Coldplay puzzle that is lacking is Martin’s own affirmation that his view of religion (and history) is equally a product of his own subjective choices.

And this means that Viva la Vida’s view of King Louis XVI isn’t the final word.  The people of France today have a more nuanced view of the king and appreciate that much of the historically-recorded invective against him was not verifiable “fact” but the distorted view of those who wanted to be in his position and who undoubtedly hated the Catholic Church not only because its place in the ancient regime, but also philosophically (a point that was not lost subsequently on French Catholics and Royalists who attempted to promote the canonization of King Louis and Queen Marie Antoinette as martyrs).

The fact is that when King Louis was condemned by the Parlement, the vote was uncomfortably close (for the revolutionaries) with only about 20 more Members voting to have him guillotined (Thomas Payne actually called on France to send the king into exile in the U.S.). 

The king’s trial was an overall sham with the verdict already decided upon, however much the Members of the Parlement wished to give him full due process of some sort.  The “crimes of repression” and other charges were gravely exaggerated and this by a revolutionary movement that was fuelled by the unruly Paris Mob, which even the leaders of the revolution feared, and the daily terror of the guillotine (named such by a Dr Guillotine who devised this method of execution as something to be “equally” applied to victims of all social classes).  And his Queen Marie Antoinette was hated only because of the anti-Austrian mood that prevailed then (there is no evidence she ever said, “Let them eat cake” – and in any event she would have referred to the “cake” leftover from the process of 18th century bread-baking). 

I say all this simply to disagree with Martin’s assessment of the king which is, at best, old hat and offers nothing new or insightful above and beyond the standard Western assessment of him - the tune is catchy though!

This leads us to the (rather depressing) conclusion in the body of Coldplay’s hit song that “St Peter won’t call my name.”

Freudian and Marxian perspectives have told us how much our society influences what we do and think, thereby relieving us of much of our own sense of responsibility for our moral choices – even to the point of disparaging such choices and the Ten Commandments on which they are based as “repressive” things imposed on us from above for purposes of social control by the elites of society.  Guilt is therefore never really personal in our culture.  The people who are really “bad” in our judgment are only those who have committed “social sins.”  At best, King Louis was the defender of the establishment, the ancient regime, and for this reason alone he is seen to be worthy of condemnation.

The message of Christianity, however, is not that personal guilt should not be taken to heart or that individual responsibility for moral choices outside of “social sins” should not be taken seriously.

This issue was addressed brilliantly in Robert Bolt’s play about Sir Thomas More, “A Man For All Seasons.”  When confronted with Cardinal Wolsey’s proposal to pressure the Church as one way of influencing a papal decision in the matter of King Henry’s divorce, More refuses to comply.  When asked how he could justify his individual conscience over-riding his public duties, More affirms that “I think that when a man goes against his private conscience for the sake of his public duties, he leads his country down a short route to chaos.”

Sin is a personal matter, first and foremost.  Its consequences are truly grave, as Chris Martin noted quite well. 

By way of footnote, anyone who has hurt a good friend badly and has seen the suffering caused by their actions, wishing they could turn back the clock, knows very well about the reality of personal sin and the temporal hell we experience with the consequences of our actions while still in this life!

But rather than try to escape from its consequences, truly religious people know that they must be about the enterprise of repentance.  Repentance is something that should characterize the life of the Christian and we don’t only repent of our own sins, but we also ask for the forgiveness of the sins of others, we pray for the salvation of all members of the Church and of the world for which Christ died on the Cross.

But the act of reconciliation with God can be as immediate as the prayer of the Thief crucified with Christ, “Remember me when You come into Your Kingdom … This day you will be with Me in paradise.”  Or the prayer of St Peter (the shortest in the Bible) while he was walking on the stormy sea and began to sink, “Lord, save me!”

The forgiveness of Christ, as we see in the parable of the Prodigal Son, is complete and releases us from the (quite natural) guilt that haunts us for what we ourselves know are our great sins and misdeeds (which are often, regrettably, not the things which should occupy our confessions).

Why do contemporary people fear asking God’s forgiveness for their sins?  Is it because our culture promotes extreme individualism and the self-pride that comes with it?  Is it because dependency on God, as on anyone, is seen as a sign of weakness and vulnerability?  Yet, without vulnerability we do not have the pre-condition for real love, understanding and acceptance for who we are.

When King Louis XVI was led to his execution, he prayed the psalms under the guidance of his English chaplain.   “Lord have mercy on me a sinner” would have been one of his prayers therefore.  And he would have had that mercy opened to him by God.  It is the same mercy that is open to all of us, at any time and at any place.

Getting back to Coldplay, what is with Chris Martin’s jacket?

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