Fifty years since Woodstock, and what did it matter? Did it matter at all?
As one of a sizable minority of young people who was motivated by the prospect of political and cultural change, in most ways that three days clearly did not mean anything. Only that there were a lot of us, and we liked rock and roll, and getting high, and having sex. Or trying – exactly like every single Western culture generation before and after us.
One of the defining aspects of culture in 2019 is a widespread sense of isolation and loneliness. Woodstock demonstrated the deep desire for community, for connection. And that weekend we connected. For many of us, a desire for the common good continues.
Real meaningful connection with one another is something our recent ancestors gave up in coming to America around the turn of the last century. Shetls were left behind, but our innate need for belonging was not. The 19th century myth of rugged individualism was made to fill in for a sense of belonging. But like all myths, it was not reality. And whenever myths stand in the place of actual history, real harm results – to individuals and our culture.
My generation’s grandparents were thinking of future generations when they got on the boats. They left behind government repression for the dream of more personal and religious freedom. They also sought the opportunity to make money, which, let’s face it, is so essential for freedom from want. The idea of leisure time probably didn’t even occur to our forebears. But we saw it was possible in the late 1960s.
When we boomers were elementary school kids, we all shared great pride in the awareness that America is what the whole world wanted to be. We were an unchallenged beacon of hope for the oppressed of the world. And we were justifiably proud.
Under President Dwight Eisenhower the American economy boomed, at least for white people. The middle class was huge. It was the age of appliances, new and improved. The prospect of more non-work time opened up to the millions. Fun. Music. Art. Entertainment. It was indeed a new age. And we thought there was no question it would continue. Woodstock was a moment for celebration of that.
As the owner of the Woodstock festival site, Max Yasgur noted it was “three days of fun and music and nothing but fun and music.” Meaning no troubles. We hundreds of thousands, and the millions of others who wanted to be there, understood: We could be together (the first line of a great Jefferson Airplane song). Optimism did reign. America had actually reached the moon. It may have been rainy and muddy, but the skies were wide open.
Vietnam intruded. My generation understood we were supposed to be the good guys, the liberators of oppressed people, helping them set their own free course and govern themselves. The fifties generation was raised deeply patriotic and the dissonance of what we were doing in Indochina was uniquely painful. It did unite us that weekend.
Woodstock was of course not about protests, neither civil rights nor the war. But it stood in high relief as a festival of life in contrast to the death culture of that war. And carnivals, taking a day or so off and transforming the streets of commerce into festival grounds, are something people in all cultures throughout history have truly needed.
So now Woodstock is 50 years behind us. Was it mere meaningless frivolity? In part, yes, but not entirely. Prevailing values were questioned and my generation was, at that pivotal moment, shaped and solidified.
We continue to oppose racism and sexism. We reject imperialist wars. We want a return to an America with a large, solid middle class. We demand respect for other cultures. Back then many of us dressed as Indians; today we are still learning about and trying to keep alive the values of their relation to the Earth. And when I saw Santana play, clearly something new and multicultural was being born.
As kids of the fifties, we remain highly sensitive to any hints of fascism. Today our old patriotic values remain, so we are of course in steadfast opposition to nationalistic, racist, fascistic Trumpism. Government in service only to the aristocrats was what our Founders fought against.
Our hair is now short and gray. We don’t live in teepees or communes but in the suburbs, cities and everywhere. We like having money and the stuff it buys, as do all Americans, but greed is not part of our identity. Many of us still smoke dope (I hear it’s a lot better today). The fifties enthusiastically treasured education and expanding consciousness, and from there LSD was a perfect fit. Now we know its unique power requires great caution.
And as 50 years have slid by, we are not immune to isolation and loneliness. We somehow still seek a sense of tribe. And we know tribes do not need to fear or fight each other.
One promise we deduced from the fifties was that there could indeed be enough economic freedom to go around. And the fact is, there is. It’s just incredibly poorly distributed now. America was the land of plenty in our youth and more of us owned a share of it. We can do it again. Many of us are determined to make it happen.
Culture always precedes political change. It was the youth culture back then, or the counterculture even. The political and cultural right in those times despised our music because black and white kids danced together. Exactly. And by August 1969, the “hippie” culture had been absorbed as officially cool and to be emulated by nearly everyone of the generation, all across America. Life Magazine pictured us as the kids next door.
In the fifties, we understood that government was there for us. It kept our food safe, built our schools, plowed our roads, and ran the trolleys, trains and buses. As we left the mud of Yasgur’s Farm, trash was everywhere. Yes, we came together all on our own and we behaved well, but without essential services like food and trash collection it was indeed a mess. Today we know government must again be there for the common good; we can no longer afford to trash or take the Earth for granted.
We could easily imagine a future not too far ahead in which many drudgery jobs would be done by machines, robots and what we now call artificial intelligence. And that more people would have shorter work weeks and more leisure time to become what they feel they were meant to be. Unleash the creativity through enhanced widespread economic freedom. That dream did not die.
When we were kids in the backseats of our parents’ cars, the question was: Are we there yet? Obviously not. The 21st century we then imagined was exceedingly different from what it turned out to be.
Whatever idealism was there at the time of Woodstock has been battered; age does that. As a kid in that crowd, now approaching the start of my eighth decade, it strikes me that those values at Woodstock, held by a distinct but sizable minority, are more applicable than ever to the challenges we face.
And as we’ve learned, history is indeed made by a determined minority. As attributed to Margaret Mead: “Never underestimate the power of a small group of thoughtful, committed people to change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has!” It’s a long, frustrating, slow process.
As my college friends at the time could attest, on recognizing the lack of quick political and cultural transformation from 1969’s optimism, my reflection was: “The revolution is over, we won, it’ll just take 50 years to implement.” Of course, I was overly optimistic.
(Burt Cohen lives in New Castle.)