I am a survivor of the 1960s. “Survivor” may seem a
questionable descriptor. But when I look back to those times, it seems
appropriate. The 1960s changed everyone who passed through those times and
events, even if with different outcomes. Some came away with their existing
thinking reinforced and hardened. Others came away with wholly new views and
perspectives than before. Everyone encountered a picture of America not seen
before; all were confused about what was going on, their role in it, and where the
country and its citizens were heading.
Perspectives were shaped differently by age, economic
status, educational levels, cultural and racial identity, and geography. The
Civil Rights movement of African-Americans said that 100 years of continuing de
facto slavery, segregation, and 2nd-class status was a long enough
wait; it was time for the promise of equality to be realized. The positive
changes that gradually emerged, albeit all hard fought, inspired similar
movements from other “left outs,” including women, Native-Americans, LBGTs, the
disabled. Social structures and codes of conduct were thereby turned upside
down, done in such a relatively short time period that it precluded easy
assimilation. Humans can only absorb so much change per unit of time. The 1960s
were a fast track of change.
Fear is a byproduct of “too-much-change” and/or “too speedy
change.” We worried whether we could keep up with it all – so much new thinking
was coming at us so fast – or whether our social order would survive (or even
should it?). Is the government on “our side” or “their side?” Would the “new
freedoms” take us to a new Shangri-La of equality and fulfillment, or destroy
the communal ties that had bound us together? Some looked to follow the new
change agents to places heretofore unknown; others looked to follow the
defenders of the already known.
Perhaps inevitably, violent actions in support of both
change and the status quo became the tool of protest against these times. The
television cameras displayed into our homes the images and sounds of mobs
shouting hateful epithets towards black children simply trying to go to school
to get an equal education. They showed us live in real time the dogs and state
police in Alabama wildly attacking black marchers claiming the equal right to
vote without obstructions. They documented the burnt-out Freedom Buses which
almost consumed their passengers in flames.
Ultimately but unsurprisingly in this climate of violence
exposed for all to see, America crossed a line. Political assassination became an
all-too-frequent mechanism of resistance. Three little black girls in a church
basement were bombed into oblivion. Black leaders Malcom X, Medgar Evers, and
Martin Luther King, Jr. were shot and killed. John and Robert Kennedy – who, along with
Dwight Eisenhower, were the first to deploy the power of federal judicial and
law enforcement to protect the safety of citizen protesters instead of
established business and political leaders – were killed. Three voting rights
activists trying to register new black voters were kidnapped one night, murdered
and buried in an earthen dam.
Viet Nam, of course, accelerated the crumbling of the
existing social order in the second half of the 1960s. Over 50,000 young men
would pay for this ultimate violence with their lives, given for a war that
should never have been fought, done to protect political lies and their cover-up
– a terrible price to pay. Television again brought the sounds and images into
our homes on a daily basis. When the anti-war / anti-establishment groups began
their counteractions, television was right there again at the ’68 Democratic
convention, and the Pentagon and Capitol steps.
This was the violent reality of our time. One turned on
his/her TV with caution. The desire for escapist entertainment would all too
likely be superseded by yet another breaking news update. “We interrupt this
broadcast for a special announcement” became the most dreaded phrase coming out
of our sets. We wondered, “What now?”
We asked, “How could this be happening – in America?” “How
and when does it stop?” We wondered, “Where are the leaders who can end this
deadly chaos and get us back on track?” Would-be leaders of course did present
themselves: “Law and Order” candidates carried the day as often happens in
times of extensive social upheaval. Governor George Wallace of Alabama (he of “segregation
now, segregation forever”) garnered 14% of the vote (2nd-most in
history) as a 3rd-party candidate for president in 1968; Richard Nixon
was carried into the White House.
Ending 1968, we had a cautious hope for change in direction,
for ending the war and domestic violence, and a move toward reconciliation. But
the social and anti-war issues were ignored while “Order” became the priority.
It would take six more years before the country would finally settle down and
find its bearings again. Wallace was shot in 1972 and disappeared from the
political scene; Nixon got swallowed up and spit out in his Watergate scandal. The
Viet Nam war finally ended. Enough finally became enough. The nation’s deep
wounds gradually healed thanks to Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter. But our blind
faith in government was shattered, yet to return as of this day.
2018 marks 50 years since Richard Nixon’s election. The
parallels between then and now abound. We are surrounded by racial and other
senseless violence, for which only equally senseless “solutions” are offered. Killing
is daily; mass killings occur regularly; outward animosity towards one another
has become our “new normal.” Alongside our TVs, we now have cell phone and body
camera videos documenting events in real-time, confronting our eyes, ears and
opinions. Social media incessantly communicates unsocial insults, bigotry and
falsehoods. Lies and/or silence from our leaders inflame the ugliness; calls
for civility in speech and conduct go unanswered in favor of stoking the
cultural antagonisms rather than soothing them. There seems no bottom to this
barrel of negativity. Thankfully, good news stories, and reports of our
humanity and magnanimity to one another, occasionally penetrate the noise. These
keep us going forward each day and after difficult day.
As 2018 ends, 50 years after the pivotal events of 1968, we
find ourselves asking ourselves once again, when will our continuing violence
against each other finally become enough? In this season of faith and new year
beginnings, we once again hold out cautious hope that ending our current
pervasive climate of hate can move from being merely lip service to truly become
our first national priority. That – in spite of our differences, in fact to
honor those differences – we can commit to that great teaching that transcends
all cultures and religions: to Love Our Neighbor.
© 2018
Randy Bell www.ThoughtsFromTheMountain.blogspot.com
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