Protest songs - 3 Quarks Daily

by Marie Snyder

I’ve had several conversations this week about how to be in a time like this when the U.S. government is so overtly corrupted. I’m just the upstairs neighbour in Canada, but we’re high on the list of countries to be overthrown. Even without being in that position, it’s hard to be aware of the world today and not be in a constant state of rage. I mean even more than before. I want to fast forward to the end when all the bad guys go to prison, but that will only happen with ongoing action from as many people as possible. However, that type of action doesn’t necessarily have to be heroic or extraordinary. This is just my two cents from a distance that’s looming closer.

INACTION AS COMPLICITY: What’s Enough?

Viewing newly accepted levels of violence in the U.S. is overwhelming and frightening. A few people have posted lists of things we can do to help, but I wonder if, for many people, it’s asking too much. This might be a controversial view at a time when it feels like we all need to get on board to shift the world back to a less selfish and violent place, but the perspective that we all are complicit if we don’t act might do more harm than good.

Martin Luther King Jr. expressed the sentiment in Stride Toward Freedom: “He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” However, the paragraph before gives that statement context: fighting evil includes “withdrawing our coöperation from an evil system” in the bus boycott. They didn’t just stop riding the bus, but people organized carpools, and cab drivers charged the price of bus fare to Black passengers, and others collected money. He also said: “Every man of humane convictions must decide on the protest that best suits his convictions, but we must all protest.” The type of work we do to help has to suit our capacity. Read more »

by Barbara Fischkin

People who have never been to sleepaway camp, don’t get it. They tease me when I speak about memories that are decades old, as if I am recalling a past life that never happened. They find it strange that I view my many years at camp as not merely summer vacations but as forces that helped to make me who I am. These camp memories visit me more deeply when the winter sky sets early, fooling me into believing that 4:30 pm is really past midnight. If I am roaming, I wonder if it is already time to go home. I linger. Yes, my summer camp taught me to roam physically—and in my imagination. It was free and free-range.

I’ll tarry briefly where many good tales begin. In the middle: My teenage years, as a camp clerk and then as babysitter for a camp director and finally, as a counselor. These summer jobs were woefully underpaid. But the fringe benefits were great: Opportunities to break rules that were often not enforced, anyway.

I smoked my first joint, out in the open, sitting with friends on a large rock by the lake, right after a late summer sunset. If caught by a camp director, we would have been fired. I don’t think they wanted to catch us. They were somewhere else, smoking their own joints. Romance, along with pot, seemed to be part of the plan for young employees, particularly in regard to the kitchen boys over whom we swooned. My camp, socialist at its core and run by lefty social workers, did not believe in waiters. To check out a kitchen boy, campers and staff had to go to one of several pantries to pick up or deliver food, plates and utensils. A chore made joyful.

In regard to specific romance, I remember the night I spent with a slightly older male counselor, sleeping with him in his tent—and not doing much more than sleeping. (Maybe it was the pot). Before dawn I shoved him awake and said: “I have to go, I will get into trouble.” He laughed a sleepy laugh, perhaps a stoner laugh and said: “Barbara, this is Wel-Met. Nobody gets in trouble for sleeping with someone.” Read more »

Tag: Protest songs

Honouring Our Capacity

INACTION AS COMPLICITY: What’s Enough?

Monday, December 9, 2024