Angry Keyboards

It's obvious that there are a lot of people unhappy with the way "things" are going these days, isn't it? Considering the narrow margin of Bush's re-election and contentious issues such as Social Security and Iraq, that's understandable. What interests me is how that discontent is taking shape compared to previous periods in our history. How does the nature of protest change as society evolves?

In many ways, the political and economic landscape of the 1960's is similar to the present. The nation had enjoyed two decades of prosperity that began after World War II. Militarily, the U.S. embarked on an aggressive policy of confronting Communist expansion. This was manifest most notably in Vietnam, which was the centerpiece of the "domino" theory---developed by "the best and the brightest" group of thinkers and policy-makers---which postulated that halting global Soviet expansion required military intervention in Vietnam to prevent all of Southeast Asia from going Communist.

Similarly, as the 21st century began, the U.S. had just enjoyed twenty years of prosperity. Its original rationale for military action in Iraq discredited, our political leadership now cites "promoting democracy"---an intellectual justification for pre-emptive military action---as the reason for our presence in Iraq and possibly other sovereign nations in the future.

Sporadic events like today's aside, why was the last sustained period of passionate public protest in the United States four decades ago?

I think it's essential to consider the role of technology. What did "discontent" not have in its toolbox forty years ago? Answer: Most of what we think is essential today. There were no fax machines, cell phones, personal computers, e-mail or internet. Only a handful of television stations existed. A generation ago, the university campus played a crucial role in social and political change; students met, debated, and developed ideas through personal interaction. Discontent discovered other discontent through word of mouth, handouts on the street, newspapers, music---and ultimately, actual meetings between people. It was rudimentary. Through this dynamic, individual discontent became collective protest.

Does that dynamic exist today? When one has something to say about Iraq, or the Social Security debate, or another issue, what are the outlets? E-mail; the internet; blogs; hundreds of cable television and radio talk shows, many of which are shouting matches that replace and short-circuit the anger that forty years ago one would have taken to the street. Similarly, video games dissipate energy and offer an escape from complicated issues for people in their teens and twenties---traditionally the crucial demographic for social and political change. Today, many student courses and assignments take place exclusively on-line; the cauldron of campus debate is a shell of what it used to be.

The basic effect: Fragmentation and dispersal. Forty years ago, when the discontented met the angry, public action was inevitable; it was the only outlet. Today, technology has transformed the protesting masses into the chattering masses. It has short-circuited and dispersed public discontent on the individual level---before it has a chance to turn into collective, publicly-visible action. The angry watch Fox News, then go to bed happy that a television host has given voice to their thoughts neatly and concisely. The discontented log onto MoveOn.org, read some message boards and send an angry e-mail, then turn off their computers confident that they've "done their part." Corporate advertisers love fragmentation; they refer to it as a "target demographic." Perhaps the word "target" is appropriate in more ways than one.

The generation that came of age in the 1960's almost fell into the same trap. It grew up in prosperity. The early part of that decade was notable for its apathy. The Vietnam War was popular with mainstream America for the first several years we were there; it only became "Vietnam" as we perceive that word today after we had been there for seven full years---and it took us another half-decade after that to actually leave. Importantly, however, the 60's generation had none of the technological tools that we take for granted today. Because of that, their desire for change benefited from a truism that has remained constant through thousands of years of human history: Outside of elections, the most effective way to make political leaders sit up and really take notice is to gather with others in the street. Letters don't do it, e-mails don't do it, phone calls don't do it, blogs don't do it, websites don't do it. Mass protest is the ultimate form of extra-electoral public action that a society's political leaders notice, respect, and in some cases fear. This has always been true; it is part of human nature. The nation's founders, having broken the yoke of British rule that restricted public assembly, realized this and guaranteed the right to protest in the Bill of Rights.

One might argue that technology has actually enhanced the public's ability to communicate opinion to its leaders faster and more efficiently than ever; public opinion polls would be one example. This is a fair point. But the key is that when change is the objective, efficiency and passion don't go together. Large-scale change is never efficient, nor is it as easy as tapping on a keyboard; it evolves from protest that is passionate, messy, and loud. Electronic efficiency is the enemy of effective protest because it enables rapid, clean dispersal of emotion.

If you could transport the average street protester from the late 1960's to the present, how do you think he would react to the state of protest in this country after his fascination with our gadgets had subsided? Would he think that technology has ultimately improved our lives, or that we had allowed technology to take something important from us? If he had cell phones, fax machines, e-mail and the internet forty years ago, communicating with others and organizing protests would certainly have been easier for him. But would he have gotten us out of Vietnam with 60,000 dead---or 600,000?

History contains some tragic examples of what happens when protest dissipates due to apathy, material obsession or intemperate, perverse nationalism. A German pastor named Martin Niemoller warned about it:

"The Nazis came for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak up because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me. By that time there was no one left to speak up for anyone."