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Roger Waters performing “Another Brick in the Wall” during The Wall Live tour in Denver, Colo., on Nov. 23, 2010.
Nearly every morning, I stroll past a chunk of the Berlin Wall on my way in the offices of the Baker Institute. The collapse of the wall was a defining moment of my political coming of age (along with the 1990 put-down of the pro-democracy movement in Tiananmen Square). I’ve spent substantial pieces of my life near walls: in the shadow of the DMZ, well inside North Korean artillery range, while in Seoul; and crossing back and forth in the gaps of the “fence” that stands between the United States and Mexico while posted to Tijuana. There is perhaps no greater expression of failure in policy than the erection of walls to separate people. These are not only to be found in the international sphere, but also domestically. Think of the walls that are used to incarcerate more than 2 million Americans or the ones that gate communities, perhaps even your own.
The alternative to walls, however, is vulnerability. This is perhaps the most salient point of that exemplar of rock and roll political theater, Pink Floyd’s 1979 double album “The Wall,” the point of entry for many of my generation to political expression through popular culture. (No, policy wonk diplomat types aren’t born reading William F. Buckley or Gore Vidal.) It is a long, sprawling piece of music and by no means an easy one to get through; however, it did deliver the band’s only #1 single and remains one of the top-selling popular albums. Of it, Rolling Stone critic Kurt Loder said,
“‘The Wall’ is the most startling rhetorical achievement in the group’s singular, thirteen-year career. Stretching his talents over four sides, Floyd bassist Roger Waters, who wrote all the words and a majority of the music here, projects a dark, multilayered vision of post-World War II Western (and especially British) society so unremittingly dismal and acidulous that it makes contemporary gloom-mongers such as Randy Newman or, say, Nico seem like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell.”
A tour supporting the album in 1980-81 was a financial disaster and was frequently marred by technical glitches. A one-off concert was given by Waters with an all-star supporting cast in Berlin in 1990. The band never toured again with Waters and reunited briefly with the other members for Bob Geldof’s 2005 Live8 concert in London. This year, however, Waters decided to dust off “The Wall” and bring it back to concert arenas in North America and Europe. Why? I recently came across this quote of mine from 22 years ago:
“What it comes down to for me is this: Will the technologies of communication in our culture serve to enlighten us and help us to understand one another better, or will they deceive us and keep us apart?”
I believe this is still a supremely relevant question and the jury is out. There is a lot of commercial clutter on the net, and a lot of propaganda, but I have a sense that just beneath the surface understanding is gaining ground. We just have to keep blogging, keep twittering, keep communicating, keep sharing ideas.
Hearing that was enough incentive for me to go, along with knowing that Waters had plunked down £37 million on the production costs. The concert, with the backing of a “surrogate band,” delivered for those of us not able to make it to New York, London, Los Angeles or Dortmund in the eighties. But most profound for me in the massive multimedia performance extravaganza was during the Wagnerian “Bring the Boys Back Home,” when projectors splashed these words onto the 20 meter-high edifice separating artist and audience:
Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.
That statement was made by Dwight D. Eisenhower in a speech to the American Society of Newspaper Editors in April 1953. I thank Mr. Waters for reminding that Ike’s deep concern regarding the maintenance of a large, permanent military establishment spanned the entire span of his presidency, right through his farewell address.
So in this season where we hope for peace on Earth, allow me to echo the sentiment. Wars (and walls) are expensive, tragic and wasteful and thus should be avoided. Although Mr. Waters is just a pop star, he offers good advice. Also remember that Mr. Reagan was just an actor until he decided to enter public service. Both of them advocated for the tearing down of walls and, I believe, were able to put paranoia in its place.
Christopher Bronk is the Baker Institute fellow in information technology policy. He previously served as a career diplomat with the United States Department of State on assignments both overseas and in Washington, D.C.