In George Floyd protests, echoes of 1968 social unrest
What makes 2020 so much like - or unlike - the political and social upheaval of 1968? Could this be another flashpoint in American history?
What makes 2020 so much like - or unlike - the political and social upheaval of 1968? Could this be another flashpoint in American history?
The streets were on fire as National Guard troops streamed into American cities. The shouts were soaked in anger and anguish: 鈥淲e鈥檙e sick of it!鈥
There was dark talk of聽鈥渞adical agitators.鈥澛燰iolent outbursts and arrests聽piled up across the republic. The White House issued martial statements about law and order. On TV, footage of unrest and anger played on a continuous loop.
The voice from mission control was cool and calm as the rocket聽soared into the sky聽and towards space. 鈥淪tage One propulsion is nominal.鈥
It was the late 1960s. It is right now.
For Americans of a certain age 鈥 and for those mindful of the past 鈥 it is impossible to ignore the similarities between these past few days and some of the more unsettling moments from the 1960s. In particular聽1968,聽a year marred by assassinations and violent social unrest.
And there are reasons to believe that 2020, not yet half done, may even surpass 1968 as one of American history鈥檚 most powerful social and political flashpoints.
From an聽impeachment trial聽to a devastating pandemic, from galloping聽unemployment聽to聽George Floyd鈥檚聽death at the hands of Minneapolis police, all the threads are there, flowing together into a raging, muddied river that serves up unimaginable challenges.
鈥淎ll these things are being woven together,鈥 says historian聽Thurston Clarke,聽author of聽鈥淭he Last Campaign,鈥澛爓hich chronicles聽Robert F. Kennedy鈥檚聽1968 presidential campaign and assassination on June 6 of that year.
鈥淚t鈥檚 like an anti-hit parade, a convergence of the greatest catastrophes of the past 100 years or so, all hitting us at once,鈥 Mr. Clarke says. 鈥淎nd with what hope?鈥
In the morass that is 2020, history鈥檚 ghosts from an assortment of American eras have resurfaced:
鈥 From 1918, when聽a pandemic鈥檚 first wave聽ravaged, ebbed, and then gave way to a more powerful second wave.
鈥 From 1930, when an economic crash revealed its longer-term effects on American citizens in the form of聽the Great Depression.
鈥 From 1974, and the governmental disarray that preceded Richard M. Nixon鈥檚聽resignation, echoed in January and February with the impeachment trial of President Donald Trump.
鈥 From 1992, and its聽images聽of聽Los Angeles burning聽after the acquittal of four police officers in the beating of Rodney King.
Perhaps the most uncomfortable era to summon for comparison is the one no one really wants to talk about: 1860, when the final pieces of polarization fell into place for what would be a cataclysmic聽Civil War.
Slavery, America's greatest historical shame, was the flashpoint then. Today, it is police brutality against black people, a descendant of that awful legacy. Then, as now, there was deep economic disparity, and a debate between individual rights and the common good. Different visions of American life. Different sets of facts and ever-hazier notions of truth.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 fundamentally common for all of these things in our history is a lack of agreement of what reality is 鈥 a lack of agreement about facts, about causes,鈥 says United States historian聽John Baick聽of Western New England University. 鈥淲hen we can鈥檛 agree on basic truth, we reach our greatest periods of divide.鈥
Now, we also must navigate a social media landscape overloaded with instantly uploaded imagery to persuade and provoke 鈥 an echo chamber full of lighter fluid that itself is a subject of national contention, thanks in part to the president.
Problems sometimes addressed, sometimes ignored, never truly solved. That鈥檚 what makes the deepest impression on聽Frederick Gooding Jr.,聽who teaches about race.
He sees parallels between today and the聽Reconstruction聽period that immediately followed the Civil War, when African Americans 鈥 coming off a war that, on paper, rebooted American society for them 鈥 were confronted with the realities of life in the postwar United States.
鈥淵ou had the premise that `I鈥檓 free, but I walk the streets in psychological terror,鈥欌 says Mr. Gooding, an associate professor of African American studies at Texas 海角大神 University.
鈥淭here really is nothing new under the sun here about the fundamental structure of our society and the way it behaves,鈥 Mr. Gooding says. 鈥淭he cycle is starting to repeat. There鈥檚 outrage, it flares up, there鈥檚 new understanding, things are put in place, and then it rears its head again.鈥
But right here, right now, 1968 seems the most relevant touchpoint of all.
Then, it was politics and economics and race 鈥 the death of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. in particular 鈥 with the backdrop of the Vietnam War, a long-running national cataclysm that was killing many thousands of Americans.
Now, it is politics and economics and race 鈥 the death of George Floyd in particular 鈥 with the backdrop of the pandemic, a long-running national cataclysm that is killing many thousands of Americans.
There are key differences, of course. The power structures have evolved and to some extent are more inclusive, though nowhere near where many hoped they鈥檇 be.
One example: Chicago, where in 1968 Mayor聽Richard J. Daley聽decried the protests at the聽Democratic National Convention聽and pushed the aggressive policing that helped make that a national flashpoint. Today, the mayor is Lori Lightfoot, an African American woman and first openly gay person to hold the office.
Perhaps the most striking difference is the one that may be fueling the fires of anger across the land: Now, unlike any other moment in history, protesters in one place can, with a device in their pockets, see and hear what鈥檚 happening elsewhere and match or surpass it in real time.
Some questions, then:
Is this period 鈥 what one Minneapolis resident called 鈥渁 volcano finally erupting after years of simmering鈥 鈥 a singular moment in American life? It鈥檚 hard to declare that from within, but it certainly has most of the convulsive themes that have driven and riven U.S. history since its beginnings.
Will people gathering and colliding in the most aggressive of fashions 鈥 shouting in each other鈥檚 faces in the era of the coronavirus 鈥 create repercussions we can鈥檛 even consider? 鈥淭his can be kind of a tinderbox for COVID,鈥 protester Rosa Jimenez Cano said in Miami.
On Saturday afternoon, the聽SpaceX聽rocket streaked into the sky from Cape Canaveral, summoning an American moment of pride, control and expert accomplishment. And like those Apollo missions in the late 1960s and early 1970s, it left a troubled planet behind. 鈥淐ongratulations to the Astronauts that left Earth today,鈥 actor and comedian Andy Milonakis聽tweeted. 鈥淕ood choice.鈥
Below it, all else felt tumultuous, a word that has been used so often to describe 1968 that it has become a cliche. Nevertheless, the word fits 2020, too 鈥 like a well-constructed face mask.
鈥淔or a surprisingly large number of Americans, I think, 1968 marked the end of hope,鈥澛燙harles Kaiser聽wrote in聽鈥1968 in America,鈥澛爃is 1988 book. 鈥淭wenty years later, it may now be possible to start unraveling the mystery of how its traumas and its culture changed us.鈥
Is that how long it will take this time? Will 20 years be enough? And, as with Apollo 11 in 1969, might there be small steps and giant leaps just ahead 鈥 breakthroughs in figuring this all out 鈥 that help Americans find new ways to soar again?
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Ted Anthony, director of digital innovation for The Associated Press, has been writing about American culture since 1990. Follow him on Twitter at http://twitter.com/anthonyted
This story was reported by The Associated Press.
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