From mediaLeft network: What Price For The Bob Dylan In All Of Us?

It is the annual “Souper Supper” for the San Diego Peace Resource Center. Living in the most militarized section of the most militarized nation on Earth; nearly 100 people of conscience gather in secular communion. Walking human artifacts; year after year, decade after decade, they have not given up their need to oppose the abomination of war.

The Peace Resource Center´s 26th Anniversary event, November 19th, was billed as a celebration, yet solemn looks and serious discussion fanned through the group, reflecting the tragedy of the Iraq War and the evil that holds sway in our government.

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A lagoon of white heads and gray tinted beards, ninety percent are over 50 years of age; while a good third are over seventy. A few pacifists from World War II and Korea, some are former hippies, still wearing tie-died t-shirts and beads, they are the aging peace movement, in it for the long haul.

There is great sadness, a lingering muteness, that after all these years, they must still pray or work for peace. Like the bewildered look of a mustang pulled from the range, standing in the corral, waiting to be slaughtered for dog food, their eyes reflect the confusion, the inability to understanding the insanity of violence. Yet, like all those unknown people of goodness throughout all the dark ages of human history, who met in small groups, to nurture peace, justice and fairness in the human heart, they keep hope and possibility alive.

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Noisy young people stoke the sadness, reminding of the failures to fundamentally change the system of wealth and power that depends on weapons and violence for survival. At times, at the dinner, chatter becomes quiet, like those simple post-funeral gatherings in rural America. For whom is this wake? Do we mourn for our nation and its Imperial arrogance? Or do we cry for ourselves – that we have allowed it to happen?

Only white faces, perhaps two or three brown, showed up. Do people of color, after generations of subjugation and abuse, understand, down to the very gene level, that liberal tinkering is really just self-serving notions of absolution? That there will only be peace when the economic and political system that supports a market economy based on war and violence is brought down? Are they keeping their powder dry?

There were no poor people; no scruffy, smelly, homeless folks who everyday in San Diego are victims of systematic violence by city officials and police. Deprived of sleep, rousted from safe places, harassed, beaten, and jailed; our newly persecuted group (in the tradition of gypsies) stand in the way of gentrifying greed, profit for the few.

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Amid the old timey folk music sung by the musicians at the peace supper, a group called A.C.T., was ironically, “The Times They Are a Changing.” Is there an unstated recognition of similarity with Bob Dylan; his cult of personality, looking out for number one, his material wealth – now a part of the problem? Once outsiders, now insiders, looking out; singing the lyrics ‘for the loser now will later to win.’ At what cost? Who sold out first Bob, you or I? Did you pave the way, allow that the “times” didn´t really change, only our perceptions of ourselves in opposition, in compromise? We now bomb Iraqi children, where we once napalmed Vietnamese children. We now beat and imprison the poor on our city streets, where we once attacked Negroes. We continue to poison our bodies with modified foods and destroy our very planet for profit.

Perhaps you can live with your gold covered mirror Bob, many former peaceniks cannot.

…

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.

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