The Weathermen
Last night Tommer and I stayed up to watch a doc about the Weathermen. The documentary itself was all right. There is something so frustratingly limiting about the current trends in documentary filmmaking and equally frustrating in the way a dramatic film would handle the same material. I could get into all of that, but I don't want to write a critique right now. Not about the film, anyway.
I vascilate. In the core of my soul, I wish I were a revolutionary. I really do. But I can't help but look at the choices of revolutionaries and find myself disillusioned and highly critical. After all, the path of a revolutionary is one of (self) righteousness. Even though there are many in my life who may have found a moment or two to describe me as such, I have to admit that I have too many questions to barrel through life that way. It's the certainty I admire, in a sick way. But it is the tunnel vision and lack of rational thinking that I abhor.
It occurs to me that I might need to mention who the Weathermen were. Some of you may be too young or perhaps did not give a rat's ass about these kinds of counterculture movements from the 60's and 70's. You'd be well within your rights, but I think they would seriously object. The Weathermen were a radical anti-war group (some would argue that they hijacked the organization from the relatively peaceful group Students for a Democratic Society) that advocated violence and destruction of property to "Bring the War Home". Their goal was to shake up the culture and overthrow the United States government and end the war in Vietnam. But, like most liberal reactionaries, I don't think they would have known what to do with it if they actually had overthrown the government.
That was the unintended message that I received from this story. Perhaps this is where the liberals in this country can learn a great lesson. Leftist movements tend to eat themselves once they have reached a certain goal (ie- getting out of Vietnam) because they have no vision beyond that goal. It seems that they never really expect to get what they want, but they enjoy the fight. Once they achieve something they tend to self destruct because they have to scramble to figure out what to do now! They argue, become bitter and disappear. Revolutionaries, by definition, are not outfitted for peace.
There was another thing about this group that sort of creeped up my spine like a lead footed spider and that was the Weathermen's racial views. These were guilty, priviledged white people trying to align themselves with black causes. Why does that bother me? And why did that seem to rankle some of the leadership of the Black Panther Party? (These kids were naive and foolish, for one...) I can't quite put my finger on it, but every time I saw the footage of Bernadine Dohrn talking about white people joining the struggle I felt really uncomfortable as if white was a filthy word. I wished she would stop saying it. I wished she would stop saying black. I wished that the whole concept would just go away. It occurs to me that I am uncomfortable, not with people of different races, but with the concept of different races. I uncomfortable with the admission that we are separate, different and impossible to unite. I am uncomfortable with the baggage of racism and the expectation of such. I am uncomfortable with a bunch of formerly (?) rich white kids muscling their way in to a fight they couldn't and shouldn't understand.
This presents a serious dilemma for me. I believe in getting to know one another and trying to empathize with one another. I also think it is arrogant and obnoxious for a few white kids to raise their hands for black power. It feels condescending as if their mere presence gives the struggle credibility. Popular culture in the 80's was riddled with stories of "good" whitey fighting the good fight for the poor, helpless, black populace. Remember the "race" films of the 80's? These were largely films about good white guys fighting bad white guys to protect the noble, but quiet black population- usually in a small southern town. Here is where whites try to style themselves as the heroes and the more I think about it, the more it skeeves me. I want to disassociate myself from the "I'm the white guy that 'gets it'" tradition.
I also want to be let in, and therein lies the dilemma. Whenever I am in a situation where I am the little corn fed white girl I am so conscious of my ultimate lameness. I am conscious of the fact that, whether it is true or not, it is assumed that I will not and cannot understand due to the priviledge of my skin. Maybe it's true. Perhaps I am incapable of comprehending blackness. If it is true, we are at an impass and I am never to be trusted. To me, this is a great loss.
Then comes the use of violence as a means to an end. By now, most of you understand where I am coming from on this. I have never and will never be convinced that adding pain on top of pain will solve anything. I must point out that after 3 of the Weathermen died in a bomb making accident that the group decided to make painstaking efforts to avoid loss of life and their main trespass was property damage. I find even that to be a rather slippery slope. I get it. I understand it. I can even put myself in a set of circumstances in which I would make the same choice. That still doesn't make it right. But what other recourse does a revolutionary have?
I guess I am heavily indoctrinated into my bourgeois, white, midwestern values. Quietly living a peaceful and good life, doing my best to practice what I preach is the only revolution I have. It's hardly glamourous. It's not wildly effective in the short term. But until something better comes along, it's what I've got.
I vascilate. In the core of my soul, I wish I were a revolutionary. I really do. But I can't help but look at the choices of revolutionaries and find myself disillusioned and highly critical. After all, the path of a revolutionary is one of (self) righteousness. Even though there are many in my life who may have found a moment or two to describe me as such, I have to admit that I have too many questions to barrel through life that way. It's the certainty I admire, in a sick way. But it is the tunnel vision and lack of rational thinking that I abhor.
It occurs to me that I might need to mention who the Weathermen were. Some of you may be too young or perhaps did not give a rat's ass about these kinds of counterculture movements from the 60's and 70's. You'd be well within your rights, but I think they would seriously object. The Weathermen were a radical anti-war group (some would argue that they hijacked the organization from the relatively peaceful group Students for a Democratic Society) that advocated violence and destruction of property to "Bring the War Home". Their goal was to shake up the culture and overthrow the United States government and end the war in Vietnam. But, like most liberal reactionaries, I don't think they would have known what to do with it if they actually had overthrown the government.
That was the unintended message that I received from this story. Perhaps this is where the liberals in this country can learn a great lesson. Leftist movements tend to eat themselves once they have reached a certain goal (ie- getting out of Vietnam) because they have no vision beyond that goal. It seems that they never really expect to get what they want, but they enjoy the fight. Once they achieve something they tend to self destruct because they have to scramble to figure out what to do now! They argue, become bitter and disappear. Revolutionaries, by definition, are not outfitted for peace.
There was another thing about this group that sort of creeped up my spine like a lead footed spider and that was the Weathermen's racial views. These were guilty, priviledged white people trying to align themselves with black causes. Why does that bother me? And why did that seem to rankle some of the leadership of the Black Panther Party? (These kids were naive and foolish, for one...) I can't quite put my finger on it, but every time I saw the footage of Bernadine Dohrn talking about white people joining the struggle I felt really uncomfortable as if white was a filthy word. I wished she would stop saying it. I wished she would stop saying black. I wished that the whole concept would just go away. It occurs to me that I am uncomfortable, not with people of different races, but with the concept of different races. I uncomfortable with the admission that we are separate, different and impossible to unite. I am uncomfortable with the baggage of racism and the expectation of such. I am uncomfortable with a bunch of formerly (?) rich white kids muscling their way in to a fight they couldn't and shouldn't understand.
This presents a serious dilemma for me. I believe in getting to know one another and trying to empathize with one another. I also think it is arrogant and obnoxious for a few white kids to raise their hands for black power. It feels condescending as if their mere presence gives the struggle credibility. Popular culture in the 80's was riddled with stories of "good" whitey fighting the good fight for the poor, helpless, black populace. Remember the "race" films of the 80's? These were largely films about good white guys fighting bad white guys to protect the noble, but quiet black population- usually in a small southern town. Here is where whites try to style themselves as the heroes and the more I think about it, the more it skeeves me. I want to disassociate myself from the "I'm the white guy that 'gets it'" tradition.
I also want to be let in, and therein lies the dilemma. Whenever I am in a situation where I am the little corn fed white girl I am so conscious of my ultimate lameness. I am conscious of the fact that, whether it is true or not, it is assumed that I will not and cannot understand due to the priviledge of my skin. Maybe it's true. Perhaps I am incapable of comprehending blackness. If it is true, we are at an impass and I am never to be trusted. To me, this is a great loss.
Then comes the use of violence as a means to an end. By now, most of you understand where I am coming from on this. I have never and will never be convinced that adding pain on top of pain will solve anything. I must point out that after 3 of the Weathermen died in a bomb making accident that the group decided to make painstaking efforts to avoid loss of life and their main trespass was property damage. I find even that to be a rather slippery slope. I get it. I understand it. I can even put myself in a set of circumstances in which I would make the same choice. That still doesn't make it right. But what other recourse does a revolutionary have?
I guess I am heavily indoctrinated into my bourgeois, white, midwestern values. Quietly living a peaceful and good life, doing my best to practice what I preach is the only revolution I have. It's hardly glamourous. It's not wildly effective in the short term. But until something better comes along, it's what I've got.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 1:21 PM
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