Blame Woodstock for America's cultural rifts
John O'Neill
August 15, 2009
Woodstock became a household word 40 years ago this past week, when a
half million people gathered in the August heat and humidity in
upstate New York to hear familiar groups like The Who and what were
then the newer sounds of Santana.
The significance of Woodstock is indisputable. It was no small feat
that 5000,000 individuals assembled in an area prepared for fewer
than half that number. The music was also innovative, especially the
electric and unorthodox version of the national anthem played by Jimi Hendrix.
But Woodstock became the reference point of an entire generation,
baby boomers born in the years following World War II who in the
1960s were defying mores through recreational drug use and liberated
sexual gratification.
It takes no right-wing monster to recognize the self-indulgent nature
of the Woodstock generation. Look no further than Crobsy, Stills,
Nash and Young (one of the event's main groups) who later paid
tribute to Woodstock with these lyrics: "We are stardust, we are golden."
More acute than Woodstock's self-indulgence was its hypocrisy. This
so-called liberal and progressive event had proportionately as few
African Americans as had the Repubilcan Convention a year before. On
the occasion of Woodstock, the youth actually gave peace a chance
(for the most part). But violence was the norm in expressing
opposition to the Vietnam War. The relative calm at Woodstock was
attributable not to deliberate restraint, but to the torrential rain,
which kept disorderly conduct in check.
An irony of Woodstock, both the event and the generation, is how much
it had in common with the forces it pretended to oppose. Truth be
told, Woodstock was a boon to corporate America. It inspired more
daring advertising and personified selfish consumers (many whose rich
parents were buying them Mustangs and Corvettes we celebrate this
weekend at the annual Dream Cruise).
Another aspect of the Woodstock generation and alumni is
unaccountability and political irresponsibility. We see it everyday
in their expensive imported vehicles sporting Barack Obama bumper
stickers (despite the fact their hero in the White House ran on the
most protectionist platform of any major party nominee in modern
presidential history). Rather than heed John F. Kennedy's call to ask
what they can do for their country, the Woodstock alumni do what they
feel like, more in the tradition of Ronald Reagan (whose presidency
Obama promised in 2008 he would emulate).
In this age of Obama (and not far removed from Reagan), Woodstock
alumni have relinquished their acid trips for more expensive trips to
Europe and Cancun. In this way, they still very much adhere to
Timothy Leary's advise: Turn on, tune in and drop out.
The main impact the Woodstock generation had was how its participants
provoked a culture war that prompted the rise of the religious right.
The Woodstock mentality ushered into the public square subjects once
exclusive to intimacy. In other words, Allen Ginsberg led to Anita Bryant.
Billy Joel didn't play at Woodstock. But two decades or so after
Woodstock, he composed the hit song "We Didn't Start the Fire," in
which he lays the blame for cultural rifts at the door of the
political right. But the generation known as Woodstock very much
started the fire. And the Woodstock alumni have kept it burning.
--
John O'Neill is an Allen Park free-lance writer.
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