This article was originally published on beingtheremag.com, an independent music and film magazine that ran from 2004 to 2007. It is presented here as part of the Being There Magazine archive.
By Adam Anklewicz | Being There Magazine, September 2004
“It’s always the old to lead us to the war
It’s always the young to fall
Now look at all we’ve won with the sabre and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all”
“I Ain’t Marching Anymore” by Phil Ochs
America awaits a large decision. On November 2nd, its citizens will have the opportunity to select the leader of their country for the next four years. Americans are divided between a rock and a hard place, George W. Bush and John Kerry. Listening to the 1960s protest songs of Phil Ochs makes me wonder: did he have a vision of the future? Nothing has really changed since the 1960s. Computers, cell phones, PDAs; we’ve had all these inventions and we still haven’t changed. So if we haven’t changed, then perhaps we should be looking to the past.
Phil Ochs, often called a singing journalist, was born in Texas on December 19, 1940. In the early 1960s, Ochs moved to New York to become a folk singer. Never finding the peak of success that his contemporaries such as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Donovan found early on, Ochs was able to sing about politics and reflect the views of the young with a light heart and a large serving of sarcasm. Since his death in 1976, Ochs has faded into even more obscurity. A death at his own hands ended his long struggle with mental illness. Now, in the early 21st century, Ochs’ music still rings true and stands as a reminder of all the work that is left to be done.
When we reflect on the hippie generation, apathy is not usually a concept that enters our mind. That generation painted themselves as protestors, caring about any and every cause. This was not the way Phil Ochs saw his generation, and is far from the truth about the current state of affairs. Ochs sang, “Look outside the window/There’s a woman being grabbed/They’ve dragged her to the bushes/And now she’s being stabbed/Maybe we should call the cops/and try to stop the pain/But Monopoly is so much fun/I’d hate the blow the game”[1] Apathy seems to be an ever growing problem in American culture, with a consistently decreasing voter turnout that has steadily been dropping since the 1960s. 2000 saw a slight rise to just over 50% of eligible voters[2]. If not even half of the eligible American voters bother to turn up to voice their opinion on Election Day, how can they be relied upon to speak out against human rights violations or immoral wars?
“A boy of 14 years got a taste of southern law/He saw his friend a hangin’ and his colour was his crime”[3] These are words that sound too familiar if we are talking about America’s historical treatment of its black citizens, a problem still in need of more attention, not to mention their shift towards a new enemy in the brown-skinned. I feel sorry for anyone of colour trying to board an airplane in America, or trying to cross the borders from Canada or Mexico into the United States. Good luck being brown-skinned in America now, because if you are, then you must be a terrorist. In 2003 in Columbia, Missouri, 21% of stopped drivers were black, while they only represented 12% of the population in that city[4]. Public lynching has been eliminated, but there are still civil rights to be fought for. In Ochs’ tribute to Woody Guthrie, he sings “He sang in our streets and he sang in our halls/And he was always there when the unions gave a call/He did all the jobs that needed to be done/He always stood his ground when a smaller man would run.”[5] Perhaps it’s a hint that more should clue in to. Rather than being the smaller man, join arms with others and scream for those in power to hear us.
America seems to be reliving an old war. The “commies” are gone and our new enemy is terror. How do you put on a uniform to fight terror? “Is there anybody here who’d like to wrap a flag around an early grave?,”[6] asks Ochs. To ask a nation to put their young at risk for a fear of fear is obscene. Wars are to be fought, not for glory, not for power, but to defend yourself. Some may argue that Iraq was a danger to America. Perhaps they were right, but a pre-emptive strike is not the answer. To destroy homes and families of innocent Iraqi civilians? To destroy families of innocent Americans by sending their children to their deaths? This could cause the death of a nation. Not Iraq, but America. Summing up those opinions perfectly is Ochs with, “If you ever get a war without blood and gore/Well I’ll be the first to go.”[7]
“I declare the war is over!”[8] It is a battle cry announcing that the people have a say. That voice formally arrives every four years in the United States. We near one of those dates, so get your voice heard. Don’t settle. Make a stance when you see an injustice. Scream, stamp your feet, a difference can be made. Phil Ochs was heard by thousands, singing about horrors in the world, giving hope while he saw none.
[1] Phil Ochs. “Outside Of A Small Circle Of Friends.” Pleasures Of The Harbor. A&M, 1967.
[2] http://www.fairvote.org/turnout/preturn.htm
[3] Phil Ochs & Bob Gibson. “Too Many Martyrs (Ballad of Medgar Evers).” All The News That’s Fit To Sing. Hannibal, 1964.
[4] Arcenia Harmon. “Racial Profiling Figures Familiar To Authorities.” Columbia Tribune Daily, March 3, 2004.
[5] Phil Ochs. “Bound For Glory.” All The News That’s Fit To Sing. Hannibal, 1964.
[6] Phil Ochs. “Is There Anybody Here?,” Phil Ochs In Concert. Elektra, 1966.
[7] Phil Ochs. “Draft Dodger Rag,” I Ain’t Marchin’ Anymore. Hannibal, 1965.
[8] Phil Ochs. “The War Is Over,” Tape From California. A&M, 1968.