British Expats - Old farts protest the Iraq War in DC

<Protesters in D.C. march to demand war's end

By Michael Ruane and Fredrick Kunkle
The Washington Post

WASHINGTON ‹ Tens of thousands of protesters Saturday staged a series
of
rallies and a march on the Capitol to demand that the United States
end its
war in Iraq.

ect--- just like the "good old days" of marching against
the war in Vietnam.

Oil Elvleth>

All the Old Dudes

Posted Jan 29, 2007

""A man could make a fortune selling Geritol to these people."

Capitalist stooge that I am, that was my first reaction upon reaching
the Washington Mall last Saturday to observe tens of thousands of
demonstrators rally against the war in Iraq.

Expecting a healthy turnout of idealistic youths, I was surprised to
find that the crowd was comprised predominantly of middle-aged '60s
throwbacks looking to recapture the glory days of the jarring folk
music, campus occupations, and general social chaos that accompanied
the Vietnam War. When the Raging Grannies showed up, it was hard to
distinguish them from the rest of the crowd.

What a disappointment. Nothing against the old folks, but they simply
can’t match the energy of a young crowd of college kids unencumbered
by work responsibilities or age-related health problems. The whole
rally was flat, dispirited, and even boring. I felt especially sorry
for the speakers: it’s hard to rile up a crowd when so many attendees
are afraid to stray too far from the porta-potties.

The languid mood was reflected in the pedestrian anti-war slogans.
Speakers led the crowd in bland, rhythmless chants like “Troops! Home!
Now!” and “Pull! Out! Now!,” thus showing an awkward reluctance to
invoke words with more than one syllable. They couldn’t even muster
the energy to launch into a refrain of the ‘ole “Hey, hey. Ho
ho . . .” chant, a nice rhythmic incantation that is usually a staple
of antiwar demonstrations.

Dominated by the '60s generation as it was, it was unsurprising to see
a galaxy of signs and booths invoking the sacred cure-all of nearly
every 1960s radical -- socialism. “Bush is the symptom, Capitalism is
the disease, Socialism is the cure” blared one giant banner. “Defeat
US Imperialism. Socialist revolution is the only solution” intoned a
pennant by the League for the Revolutionary Party. “Defend China,
North Korea, and Vietnam Against Imperialism and Capitalist Counter-
Revolution!” was the motto of the Sparticist League. That last slogan
I found to be one of the most offensive statements of the day -- right
up there with one speaker’s invocation of Maureen Dowd as an
authoritative social analyst.

It is sad that in thirty years, the U.S. Left hasn’t come up with a
better idea than socialism. Dejected, I wandered away from the
workers’ champions and approached a drum circle. Even this was
dominated by superannuated radicals who couldn’t seem to play anything
other than quarter notes. I struck up a conversation with one of the
few college-aged girls in the vicinity, who asked me how I liked the
music. As a drummer myself, I told her that I’d like to see the
musicians venture outside of a 4/4 time signature. Perplexed, she
picked up her “Buck Fush” sign and walked away.

Convinced I wasn’t going to see anything interesting, I began walking
home. But just then, I struck gold. About 100 protestors had broken
off from the main rally and grouped across the street, near the
Capitol building. I could tell right away that something was different
about this crowd because it was composed almost entirely of young
people. Catching sight of the red and black flag of anarchism, I
realized I had fallen in with the hardcore antiglobalization gang.

These protestors, clad almost entirely in black, menacingly chanted
“Who’s Capitol? Our Capitol!” Having ventured into the realm of the
polysyllabic, I could tell they were serious. The bandanas wrapped
around their faces, meant to conceal their identities, had an
intimidating effect only slightly mitigated by their tendency to
remove their disguises whenever they needed a cigarette. Which was
often.

The group marched past the fountain and up the field in front of the
Capitol, pushing aside some flexible green mesh fencing. (Or, in the
words of one protestor later relating the events to his attractive
female comrade, “We smashed through the barricades.”) They walked up
to the steps of the Capitol, which were defended by a line of police
officers. Things looked tense as the anarchists chanted “Who’s steps?
Our steps!” But in the end, they lacked the resolve to take on the
cops. Some drummers banged out a beat, there was more sloganeering and
dancing, and eventually the whole procession simply moved on, chanting
“We’ll be back!”

The cops seemed unmoved, even though they’d just been threatened with
another punishing drum circle.

Realizing the gothic-looking group was more about fashion than follow-
through, I left for home. I felt embarrassed for a movement to which I
don’t even belong. Even the young anarchists could not escape the
looming specter of the 1960s, which was reflected in many signs simply
reading “SDS” -- an old '60s radical group that I thought had died out
at the same time as eight-track tapes.

The sad scene on the Mall shows that the Left is incapable of
parlaying the unpopularity of the Iraq War into a new, energetic anti-
war movement. The ‘60s radicals are active, but the movement just
can’t get traction without young people. A good many of the older
folks, I suspect, are not even motivated by politics so much as by a
desire to recapture their youth. They break out the old slogans and
the old songs, but these ring hollow to a younger generation.

“Hey hey, Uncle Sam! We remember Vietnam!” chanted one former flower
child from the stage. The problem is, the youth don’t remember
Vietnam. The old radicals are thus trying to entice the young into a
movement that revolves around the sacred memory of events in which
today’s young people played no part. The youth are essentially being
asked to become second-class citizens in this movement, having to bow
to the superior wisdom of those who fought the reactionary opposition
back when it really mattered.

But the attempt to make the current war into a replay of Vietnam is
failing quite dramatically. What’s missing is the key element that
provoked many of the old radicals to oppose the Vietnam War in the
first place: the draft. It wasn’t really the war per say that a lot of
them opposed; it was the prospect of themselves actually having to go
fight it. Lacking that impetus, the younger generation seems
distinctly unimpressed by the urgency of ending a war fought so soon
after the 9/11 attacks.

What do the old radicals have left to offer the youth? Socialism. One
can understand the attraction of this credo back in the 1960s, when
its American adherents only had the millions of victims of the Soviet
regime to contradict their assertion that socialism would provide a
positive alternative to capitalism.

But now, we know of the atrocities of a whole new set of postwar
socialist regimes in China, Cambodia, Romania, and countless other
places -- including Vietnam -- as well as the final collapse of most
socialist governments and the turn toward capitalism of nearly all the
remaining socialist regimes. Younger activists may have the Iraq War
to fight against, but they need something to fight for -- and with
socialism, their older role models are not offering them anything
appealing.

The '60s radicals say they want a revolution, but how often are
revolutions successful without any young people? Trotting out a
nervous-looking Jane Fonda -- as the Washington rally organizers did
-- may excite the old radicals, but the few younger ones on hand
seemed distinctly unimpressed. The attraction of spending hours
sculpting giant paper mache puppets and creating makeshift bongos out
of water jugs for use in antiwar rallies will only go so far. Without
a more creative goal than socialism, the youth are unlikely to follow
their aging forebears to the barricades any time soon."

Lol
How old are the old farts, grandad ?
Are you suggesting there are other old farts than you around here ?
We want NAMES !!
No copyright on Internet names !

"PJ O'Donovan" <[email protected]> a Ã©crit dans le message de news:
[email protected]. com...

<Protesters in D.C. march to demand war's end

By Michael Ruane and Fredrick Kunkle
The Washington Post

WASHINGTON < Tens of thousands of protesters Saturday staged a series
of
rallies and a march on the Capitol to demand that the United States
end its
war in Iraq.

ect--- just like the "good old days" of marching against
the war in Vietnam.

Oil Elvleth>

All the Old Dudes

Posted Jan 29, 2007

""A man could make a fortune selling Geritol to these people."

Capitalist stooge that I am, that was my first reaction upon reaching
the Washington Mall last Saturday to observe tens of thousands of
demonstrators rally against the war in Iraq.

Expecting a healthy turnout of idealistic youths, I was surprised to
find that the crowd was comprised predominantly of middle-aged '60s
throwbacks looking to recapture the glory days of the jarring folk
music, campus occupations, and general social chaos that accompanied
the Vietnam War. When the Raging Grannies showed up, it was hard to
distinguish them from the rest of the crowd.

What a disappointment. Nothing against the old folks, but they simply
can't match the energy of a young crowd of college kids unencumbered
by work responsibilities or age-related health problems. The whole
rally was flat, dispirited, and even boring. I felt especially sorry
for the speakers: it's hard to rile up a crowd when so many attendees
are afraid to stray too far from the porta-potties.

The languid mood was reflected in the pedestrian anti-war slogans.
Speakers led the crowd in bland, rhythmless chants like "Troops! Home!
Now!" and "Pull! Out! Now!," thus showing an awkward reluctance to
invoke words with more than one syllable. They couldn't even muster
the energy to launch into a refrain of the 'ole "Hey, hey. Ho
ho . . ." chant, a nice rhythmic incantation that is usually a staple
of antiwar demonstrations.

Dominated by the '60s generation as it was, it was unsurprising to see
a galaxy of signs and booths invoking the sacred cure-all of nearly
every 1960s radical -- socialism. "Bush is the symptom, Capitalism is
the disease, Socialism is the cure" blared one giant banner. "Defeat
US Imperialism. Socialist revolution is the only solution" intoned a
pennant by the League for the Revolutionary Party. "Defend China,
North Korea, and Vietnam Against Imperialism and Capitalist Counter-
Revolution!" was the motto of the Sparticist League. That last slogan
I found to be one of the most offensive statements of the day -- right
up there with one speaker's invocation of Maureen Dowd as an
authoritative social analyst.

It is sad that in thirty years, the U.S. Left hasn't come up with a
better idea than socialism. Dejected, I wandered away from the
workers' champions and approached a drum circle. Even this was
dominated by superannuated radicals who couldn't seem to play anything
other than quarter notes. I struck up a conversation with one of the
few college-aged girls in the vicinity, who asked me how I liked the
music. As a drummer myself, I told her that I'd like to see the
musicians venture outside of a 4/4 time signature. Perplexed, she
picked up her "Buck Fush" sign and walked away.

Convinced I wasn't going to see anything interesting, I began walking
home. But just then, I struck gold. About 100 protestors had broken
off from the main rally and grouped across the street, near the
Capitol building. I could tell right away that something was different
about this crowd because it was composed almost entirely of young
people. Catching sight of the red and black flag of anarchism, I
realized I had fallen in with the hardcore antiglobalization gang.

These protestors, clad almost entirely in black, menacingly chanted
"Who's Capitol? Our Capitol!" Having ventured into the realm of the
polysyllabic, I could tell they were serious. The bandanas wrapped
around their faces, meant to conceal their identities, had an
intimidating effect only slightly mitigated by their tendency to
remove their disguises whenever they needed a cigarette. Which was
often.

The group marched past the fountain and up the field in front of the
Capitol, pushing aside some flexible green mesh fencing. (Or, in the
words of one protestor later relating the events to his attractive
female comrade, "We smashed through the barricades.") They walked up
to the steps of the Capitol, which were defended by a line of police
officers. Things looked tense as the anarchists chanted "Who's steps?
Our steps!" But in the end, they lacked the resolve to take on the
cops. Some drummers banged out a beat, there was more sloganeering and
dancing, and eventually the whole procession simply moved on, chanting
"We'll be back!"

The cops seemed unmoved, even though they'd just been threatened with
another punishing drum circle.

Realizing the gothic-looking group was more about fashion than follow-
through, I left for home. I felt embarrassed for a movement to which I
don't even belong. Even the young anarchists could not escape the
looming specter of the 1960s, which was reflected in many signs simply
reading "SDS" -- an old '60s radical group that I thought had died out
at the same time as eight-track tapes.

The sad scene on the Mall shows that the Left is incapable of
parlaying the unpopularity of the Iraq War into a new, energetic anti-
war movement. The '60s radicals are active, but the movement just
can't get traction without young people. A good many of the older
folks, I suspect, are not even motivated by politics so much as by a
desire to recapture their youth. They break out the old slogans and
the old songs, but these ring hollow to a younger generation.

"Hey hey, Uncle Sam! We remember Vietnam!" chanted one former flower
child from the stage. The problem is, the youth don't remember
Vietnam. The old radicals are thus trying to entice the young into a
movement that revolves around the sacred memory of events in which
today's young people played no part. The youth are essentially being
asked to become second-class citizens in this movement, having to bow
to the superior wisdom of those who fought the reactionary opposition
back when it really mattered.

But the attempt to make the current war into a replay of Vietnam is
failing quite dramatically. What's missing is the key element that
provoked many of the old radicals to oppose the Vietnam War in the
first place: the draft. It wasn't really the war per say that a lot of
them opposed; it was the prospect of themselves actually having to go
fight it. Lacking that impetus, the younger generation seems
distinctly unimpressed by the urgency of ending a war fought so soon
after the 9/11 attacks.

What do the old radicals have left to offer the youth? Socialism. One
can understand the attraction of this credo back in the 1960s, when
its American adherents only had the millions of victims of the Soviet
regime to contradict their assertion that socialism would provide a
positive alternative to capitalism.

But now, we know of the atrocities of a whole new set of postwar
socialist regimes in China, Cambodia, Romania, and countless other
places -- including Vietnam -- as well as the final collapse of most
socialist governments and the turn toward capitalism of nearly all the
remaining socialist regimes. Younger activists may have the Iraq War
to fight against, but they need something to fight for -- and with
socialism, their older role models are not offering them anything
appealing.

The '60s radicals say they want a revolution, but how often are
revolutions successful without any young people? Trotting out a
nervous-looking Jane Fonda -- as the Washington rally organizers did
-- may excite the old radicals, but the few younger ones on hand
seemed distinctly unimpressed. The attraction of spending hours
sculpting giant paper mache puppets and creating makeshift bongos out
of water jugs for use in antiwar rallies will only go so far. Without
a more creative goal than socialism, the youth are unlikely to follow
their aging forebears to the barricades any time soon."