The Man

By spending two years alone in a cabin, Henry David Thoreau clearly didn’t give a damn about society, but apparently society gave a damn about him. He influenced environmentalism, philosophy, literature, and the acid-induced writings of Roger Waters. There’s only so many times the motif of the machine can come up in Thoreau’s piece, “On the Duty of Civil Disobedience” before you start welcoming your son. The one-word connection, but otherwise contrasting meanings behind “Welcome to the Machine” by Pink Floyd and the line, “Let your life be the counter friction to stop the machine,” really makes you question what rebellion and conformity look like and if there even is a difference between them at all (Thoreau 1022). Roger Waters takes Thoreau’s mildly optimistic and inspiring view on individualism, brings it a step further, and kills it. Hope for nonconformity is gone and the machine is inescapable.

Thoreau does well in pointing out the faults of the majority and the meaninglessness it creates in voting. He suggests that even though many vote and therefore think they are sparking change and making themselves heard, they are actually just playing into the hands of the government. Instead of making the Man do what they want, the people are fulfilling the Man’s expectations. Thoreau preaches individualism, but the reality that his petty protests are yet another gear in the machine is revealed by the Pink Floyd classic. Thoreau failed to acknowledge that any form of rebellion (or at least the forms mentioned in his piece) is, in fact, conformity. I know, maybe that didn’t register, but what really is the difference between making a change through voting and making a change through not paying a poll tax? The depressing truth comes out when listening to “Welcome to the Machine.” In the song, a boy essentially flips off his mom, has all these big dreams, wants to rebel, disregards society, and envisions a rock star lifestyle. However, all his dreams of nonconformity are planted in his head by the society he wishes to abandon. All the ideals and ambition he possesses are planned by the machine. The machine, society, government, the patriarchy, the Man, whatever, expects you to rebel. By rebelling he does what he is designed to do. If the boy had done what he’d see as conforming, well, then obviously that option would also be conforming. Rebellion is just blind conformity. The inescapability of the Man’s grasp comes from our entire existence being shaped by it. Everything we ever see, hear, think, or dream about is in some way a result of the society around us. If this shatters your individualistic dreams of rebellion and nonconformity, I’m sorry, but you’re really kind of stuck.

I’m an Aquarius. My whole life I’ve read I’m supposed to be eccentric, quirky, revolutionary, and rebellious. And to my own frustration, I often find myself fitting into those characteristics. How the hell am I supposed to be a rebel if I perfectly exhibit the stereotypes I’m placed under?! I’m just begging to be labeled. There’s simply no way to win, man. Realizing all your efforts are futile isn’t fun, so I’m glad many people don’t see things as pessimistically as I do. At least I can get a sad chuckle from my middle school mascot being the Larson Rebel. Nothing says nonconformity like the public school system.

A Generation Forgotten

In her piece, “Postcards from the Trenches,” Allyson Booth writes, “The dead and the missing are equally represented as crucial to the war effort.” Although this uniformity is beneficial in creating unity amongst the fallen soldiers, it overshadows the individuality of each of the young men lost. They are all alike in death, but is that really the message a memorial wants to convey while attempting to commemorate the lives and efforts of the individuals sent into combat? Perhaps this stems from my individualism-centered bias that comes with being an Aquarius, but the lives of the soldiers who sacrificed their youth for the US should be remembered more personally than with a short engraving in an endless sea of names. For example, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial plainly lists countless names on a black surface, erasing all the personalities of the soldiers and replacing them with letters lacking a story. To onlookers, any individual name would appear insignificant amid the oodles of others. There is no way for a stranger to know what any given soldier was actually like in life.

In a way, such an impersonal memorial also limits the soldier’s life to only their time spent in the war and the contributions they made on the battlefield. The energy of the entire wartime generation is forgotten, and blind, violent tragedy is all future generations can see. As a way to remember the war itself, along with the lives lost, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is still somewhat ineffective. The war is not only the the bombings, battles, and death, it also encompasses the characteristics of American society at the time. The Vietnam War was highly controversial and met with protests throughout the nation. The early baby boomers, who made up a majority of the troops shipped off and lost in the war, were also involved in battles on the home front, against the US government. The outspoken spirit of this generation, especially including that of the soldiers that lost their lives, does not come across in the simple and death-centered memorial they received. The young adults at the time, being born under Pluto in Leo, shared a desire for development, attention, and self-expression, exhibited in their fight on and off the battlefield. If thousands of names are to be grouped together, let their fighting spirit be the reason they are united, not the fact that they died in senseless violence.