Fair to Middling

  The new reality for the American middle class is one of anxiety and uncertainty.  In fact, middle class families in 21st century America are having to face problems that were once reserved for those living closer to the poverty line.  Plummeting house values, crushing medical bills, and mounting consumer debt coupled with a frighteningly stagnant job market makes for an increasingly precarious situation concerning the continued solvency of the middle class.  Furthermore, the strength of the United States economy itself depends on a strong and vibrant middle class.  To be sure, America is a middle class society, but perhaps not for long.

In predicting the life expectancy of the American middle class (and as a natural extension, the status of America as a middle class society), a worthy topic of exploration is that of social mobility.  During the economic boom of Post World War II America, it was easy for a single income family to afford a home and a car in the suburbs.  A new standard had been set, attainable for most Americans through hard work, reasonable bank loans, the GI Bill, and a little luck.  The decade marked the birth of the American Dream.  However, while the myth of an open American society was plastered on the magazine covers of the day, whole populations of America were operating in a closed system.  African-Americans were denied the same opportunities afforded to White Americans through denial of civil rights.  Sadly, in the sixty years since the hard fought battles of the Civil Rights Movement in America, not much has changed.  In fact, the unemployment rate amongst African-Americans at 12.6% has remained largely unchanged (Lecture 8/27/13).  If Weber were alive today, he would likely say that this was a textbook example of social closure.

  As the American experiment continues it is easy to see that the middle class is stagnating.  Fewer and fewer families are able to move into the third and fourth quintiles as shown in the US Census Bureaus chart detailing the Growing Spread in Family Income (Sernau 2014, Ch. 4).  Even fewer are those families able to move into the fifth quintile.  In the 1950s through the 1970s, attaining a new social class was much more likely.  Education, coupled with opportunities made this possible.  Those wealthiest individuals knew that a strong middle class buoyed their own successes.  However, as the 1980s approached the wealthy seemed to forget the importance of the middle class.  Seeking more profit and deeper tax cuts, they overreached, which began an erosion of the middle class in America.  The Great Recession is likely a direct result of the deindustrialization of America.  As America has said farewell to the manufacturing base, so could it also say farewell to the middle class.  

Additionally, it is little comfort that with this widening gap comes an increase in low paying service jobs and stagnant rates of minimum wage.  Credentialism is alive and well in America.  While it may be beyond the scope of this essay to fully explore the lack of jobs for recent college graduates (especially in their chosen fields), it is disheartening to look at the available jobs on the OSU job boards only to find entry level jobs that require a master’s degree yet only pay $14 an hour.  It hardly seems worth the effort.  However, foregoing higher education often results in finding employment in a classic dead-end job situation.  As an example, we can consider employment with the United States Postal Service.  What was once a great organization for non-college educated people to get a job which provided health insurance, retirement, and a decent living wage has become nothing more than a glorified temp agency with decreasing wages and benefits.

Also, it is true that poverty is relative.  The poor in America are better off than in most of the developing world where 2 billion people live on less than $2 a day.  Hans Rosling depicts this reality in his TED Talk, where he explains that 5 billion people of the 7 billion people on planet Earth don’t own a washing machine (Lecture 9/17/13).  It is a sobering notion to consider that outside of America and the developed West, people are still washing their clothes in a river.  Of course, this is just one indicator of how the rest of the world lives.  This doesn’t even begin to address the problems of malnutrition, lack of health care, or other vital aspects of life.  How can we begin to address the real issues of global poverty when so many of us are insulated from the true consequences and challenges?

Marxist thought suggests that we are divided into owners and non-owners.  His theories were revolutionary at the time and continue to inform arguments for and against capitalism (or socialism, depending on which side of the fence you are on), but they are too black and white to be of any real use in todays complicated economic and social climate.  There are far too many factors to consider given the rise of technology and it’s enormous affect on the workers of the world.  Further, globalization (something that Marx could not have foreseen) complicates matters even more.

Finally, the question must be answered––if America is a middle class society, why is there so much poverty?  These days, in many political and social arenas, people will often say that poverty is a product of laziness.  This is a fallacy, and mostly serves as a convenient salve for a troubled conscience.  Poverty exists because of a systematic exploitation of the less fortunate, less connected, and less educated.  The wealthy have become so by standing on the backs of the poor.  Further, the concept of social reproduction says that they will remain so.  Interestingly, it is likely that the wealthy wants (needs?) the middle class to disappear.  After all, the poor fulfill a variety of important roles in society.  In fact, sociologist Herbert Gans states that there are no less than fifteen roles that the poor fulfill (Gans, Positive Functions of Poverty).  It would be far too simplistic to repeat the adage that “the world needs ditch diggers, too” but it’s a notion that the wealthy sometimes seem to identify with.

What is to be done to preserve America as a middle class society?  Of course, there are many possible solutions––nearly all of them requiring a sacrifice from the wealthy (specifically regarding their precious bottom lines).  One suggestion includes returning America’s manufacturing base to urban centers on our soil, rather than in foreign countries (as globalization and the ever increasing need for profit require), and paying those American workers a decent living wage.  Finally, as stated in the beginning of this essay a countries economy is only as strong as it’s middle class.  For the future success of America, some sacrifices must be made.  I suggest we start at the top.

Sernau, Scott. 2014. Social Inequality in a Global Age. Los Angeles: Sage Publications

Gans, Herbert J. 1972. “The Positive Functions of Poverty”. The American Journal of Sociology 78, No.2: 257-289. Accessed via Carmen.

Dwyer, Dr. Rachel. Lecture “Poverty”. 9/17/13.

Lecture “Wealth and Elites”. 9/26/13.

Lecture. “Theories of Social Stratification”. 8/27/13.

Bhopal

The Bhopal Gas Leak

Introduction: Union Carbide and Bhopal

The ruins of the Union Carbide plant still loom over the slums of Bhopal, India nearly three decades after the horrific events that occurred on the night of December 2nd, 1984. The skeletal frame of the factory stands as a grim reminder of the gas leak that killed an estimated 8000 people overnight, and consequently contributed to the deaths or chronic health problems of possibly hundreds of thousands more (Broughton, 2005). While there is no doubt that the deaths associated with the world’s worst industrial disaster were a direct result of the inhalation of methyl isocyanate gas (MIC), there was perhaps a more insidious poison at work that night––exploitation of an impoverished, disadvantaged people reinforced by class inequality and the caste system of India.
     When, in 1979, multinational corporation Union Carbide opened their pesticide plant in Bhopal, the company was welcomed with open arms. The jobs that the plant would provide were difficult to pass up for the impoverished people of Bhopal. Further, Union Carbide’s business model was a beneficial one for the people of Bhopal and the company itself. Union Carbide would produce the “miracle pesticide” Sevin and the impoverished primary sector farmers of India would purchase and use the product, increasing their crop yield and profit. Union Carbide could make millions, while the farmers of India could feed millions. Additionally, the factory offered the best wages in a town where work was difficult to find. Everyone would win.

However, by 1984, drought was widespread in India, making it impossible for the financially suffering Indian farmers to afford Union Carbide’s product. Over the course of 4 years, the plant in Bhopal had become a tremendous financial liability. In an effort to cut costs, an entire third of the workforce at the plant (including half of the supervisory team) was fired, resulting in essential safety systems being scaled back. This corporate penny pinching would ultimately set off a chain reaction of irresponsibility that led to the deaths of thousands of Indian people.

Making Matters Worse: Internal Colonialism and the Caste System

In an exploration of how social inequality magnified the tragedy of the Bhopal gas leak, it is important to consider how the caste system in India affected the people that lived near, or worked in, the Union Carbide plant. Applying Robert Blauner’s model of internal colonialism (Sernau 2014, Chap. 5), we can see how the exploitation of a disadvantaged internal population resulted in the unnecessary deaths of thousands. When an entire population, such as the “untouchables” in the Indian caste system, are denied basic participation in their government, restricted in their freedom of movement, subjected to colonial-style labor exploitation, and basically regarded as inferior, their chances for upward social mobility are severely limited (Sernau 2014, Chap. 5). Such conditions of social reproduction leads to situations exactly like the one in Bhopal. With institutional oppression like the caste system, employment options are few. Indeed, there is little question as to the motives of a multinational corporation choosing to operate in a densely populated area like Bhopal, instead of building in a relatively uninhabited (and far safer) area. The potential for exploitation of cheap labor, infrastructure, and profit proved too difficult for them to pass up. Further, the Indian government, eager to become major players on the world’s economic stage, had extremely relaxed zoning and environmental regulations making Bhopal an attractive operations site (Malini, 2005).

Illustrative of the concept of spatial inequality (Lecture, 11/7/2013), consider that in 1984, there were 20,000 people living directly under the shadow of the Union Carbide plant (One Night in Bhopal 2004). Resource inequality results in people living in shanty towns and the surrounding “Old City”. These were people living in abject poverty, most surviving on less than $1 dollar a day. Conversely, the Americans that were employed at Union Carbide (and the Indian supervisory and administrative staff) had access to special advance warning plans and resources that the dwellers of the shanty towns did not. This divide further served to seal the fates of those that died that night. 

The Worst Plan is No Plan At All: How Union Carbide and Local Authorities Failed

There were a number of safety measures that failed that night. They were simple safeguards that, if operable, would have averted the world’s worst industrial disaster. First, a refrigeration unit that was turned off would have kept the MIC from overheating and forming into a gas. Additionally, as the gas leak began, an alarm that would have alerted the people living in the area of the impending danger, was manually disabled––to prevent panic. Finally, a flare tower could have burned off the deadly gas before it drifted into the slums––if it had been in operation (One Night in Bhopal, 2004).

As it became clear that the gas cloud was spreading into the shantytown, Union Carbide did nothing. No call was made to the local authorities. Even if a simple phone call would have been made, it probably would not have helped. There had been no precautions taken, or provisions made, for such a catastrophic event. In Union Carbide’s corporate egotism, they were sure that their technology was sound, while rendering it useless by switching the power off. 

A basic emergency response plan would have saved thousands of lives, but there was nothing like that in place. According to a staff doctor, who resigned after her many warnings to Union Carbide officials of the potential catastrophe were ignored, the company showed no concern for the impoverished population of Bhopal (One Night in Bhopal, 2004). As the poisonous gas drifted into the shantytown, people began to suffocate by the hundreds. Children were affected first, as the gas (which was heavier than air) settled closer to the ground. As people began to run away from the affected area, several hundred more were killed in the stampede. When the poison cloud had dissipated in the morning, thousands had died. The official number was difficult to ascertain, due to the poor social infrastructure. Today, it is generally agreed that the loss of life was near 3800 people during the night of the leak. However, it is estimated that 16,000 additional deaths have occurred as a result of the gas leak in the decades that followed (Broughton, 2005).

Most of these deaths could have been avoided. According to medical officials in Bhopal, a few simple steps could have been taken to prevent the catastrophe (One Night in Bhopal, 2004). An alarm could have alerted the people, and awakened them from sleep. A few extra minutes would likely have made a significant difference. Wet blankets hung over doors and windows would have lessened the impact of the gas. Finally, if people would have been told to stay indoors, or alternatively, to flee in the opposite direction of the wind, the loss of life would have been significantly reduced.

Aftermath: A Legacy of Death and Denial

In the first days following the gas leak, Union Carbide officials denied the impact of it’s system malfunction and the MIC gas. Company doctors said that the conditions of the survivors would improve with treatment, and that the environmental impact would be limited (One Night in Bhopal, 2004). Warren Anderson, the CEO of Union Carbide in India, was arrested for manslaughter, but through intervention of the United States government, was released on bail the same day. He fled to the United States, and has never admitted culpability for the tragedy (Broughton, 2005).

In Bhopal today, there is a disproportionate incidence of skin, lung, and gastrointestinal cancer. Additionally, the rates of miscarriage in women are seven times that of other populations in India. Genetic birth defects in the children of Bhopal manifest as poor coordination, blindness, memory loss, and impaired immune systems. It is estimated that 500,000 people have been affected by the tragedy (Broughton, 2005). Generations have been left crippled by illness, leaving them unable to work, further compromising their social mobility.

In 2010, seven former Union Carbide officials were found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison and ordered to pay $2000 in fines. Additionally, the population of affected people in Bhopal were awarded the equivalent of $2200 each. Dow Chemical, the parent company of Union Carbide, claims that they have learned important safety lessons as a result of the disaster in Bhopal.

It is clear that the Bhopal disaster was the product of a capitalist, corporatist system which puts profit before human life by exploiting global inequality. As the tide has slowly changed in our own country, corporate interests must seek to improve their profit margins by setting up shop in developing countries that are hungry for American dollars. Unfortunately, the people of such industrializing countries rarely benefit. More often, the presence of a multinational corporation causes more trouble than it’s worth. Sadly, in the case of Bhopal, the cost is a lasting debt of death and illness.

Works Cited

Broughton, Edward. "The Bhopal Disaster and Its Aftermath: A Review." Environmental Health. N.p., 10 May 2005. Web. 30 Nov. 2013. <http://www.ehjournal.net/content/4/1/6>.

Malini, Nair. "Bhopal Gas Tragedy - A Social, Economic, Legal, and Environmental Analysis." Texas A&M, 10 Dec. 2005. Web. <http://mpra.ub.uni-muenchen.de/37856/1/>.

One Night in Bhopal. BBC, 2004.

Sernau, Scott, and Scott Sernau. "Chapter 5." Social Inequality in a Global Age. Los Angeles: SAGE/Pine Forge, 2011. N. pag. Print.

Art and America Now

What is America? Simply put, it is not just the land between the Pacific and Atlantic—it is a collection of people and their ideas, thoughts, and symbols. American history is complicated, and there is much to be ashamed of, but most of us, regardless of identifier (political, racial, sexual, or religious) are able to connect with the one unifying symbol of America. As an American, you may be fulfilled, happy—content with your lot in life. More realistically, you may be upset, angry, or disappointed with the way things are turning out during what seems to be the death throes of the American experiment. Of course, artists often see things differently. In a discussion of art and American themes, it is impossible not to consider Jasper Johns. His Three Flags, and other works involving the American flag, are perhaps the obvious subject to discuss here, but they may be too easy when considering the most important question they raise: is this a painting or a flag? To me, it is both. Sometimes searching for deeper meaning is unnecessary, as the artist may have had a simple goal to accomplish. Recreating the symbology of the American flag is easy to digest, as it is burned indelibly into our mind. But what about a map of America? In what new ways can we see America? If we are asked to picture an image of America in our head, what do we conjure up? Many of us probably picture a flag, or a bald eagle. Alternatively, many of us may picture a map. With the borders neatly demarcated, the states shown in varying shades of color. We may be reminded of elementary school, and memories of a giant map that hung on the wall. It is this image that Johns likely took great pleasure in deconstructing with his Map of 1961. By blurring the shapes and borders of the states, he offers a more realistic (and colorful) view of what America truly is—a place that is more likely defined by the spaces between the lines, rather than the convenient definitions of states. To me this suggests a hopeful outlook on the part of Johns, and with his use of bright color I feel that he wants the viewer to share in his optimism.

            If Jasper Johns’ Map is a commentary on the idea of the American melting pot, then William Wegman’s The Tilted Chair is something entirely different. The size and grandeur of the piece itself is one of its defining characteristics. Viewing the huge piece has the effect of transporting you into a fantasy version of America, where points of interest on the landscape are connected by stylized mountain ranges, rivers, and roads. These points of interest are represented by found postcards; images of smiling women in bikinis, the Space Needle in Seattle, a row of parrots sitting on a tree limb. It’s like looking at the collected memories of a middle-class family’s travels in 1950’s America. It is shiny, happy, and prosperous, and further, it suggests that the spaces between may be more representative of the American journey. The piece is marvelous, and it appeals to the world designer in me as there are a multitude of stories possibly taking place on these four panels of wood.

            Additionally, if the space between, as suggested by Wegman in The Tilted Chair, is important to consider when thinking about American values and themes, then Diane Arbus’ Xmas tree in a living room, Levittown, L.I. 1963 is most assuredly a piece worthy of reflection. Arbus once said that “a photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it shows you, the less you know”. When we look at a picture like this, the potential for teleportation to a different time in America is great. The console TV on the stand in the corner, the garish tinsel on the (probably fake) Christmas tree, the plastic covering on the lamp shade; all indicators of a curated image of a new middle-class America. The historical context of this photograph may be more important than the image itself. The Levitts were pioneers of affordable housing in America, and Levittown, Long Island represents the largest subdivision ever constructed. For veterans returning from World War II, a tract house built by the Levitt Company offered an affordable option for experiencing the “good life”. Referred to as ‘the rabbit hutch’ by some observers, the subdivision provided a transition, facilitated by generous government home loans, where GIs could start a family. These homes even included the appliances. The gap between city and rural life was finally bridged, and the middle class was born. But, is it possible that the positives of these opportunities of ready-made convenience were diminished by the nature of the sterility of their surroundings. After all, what new ideas could come of the relative ease of the cookie cutter lifestyle promoted by the idea of a subdivision? Arbus’ photograph seems to prophetically symbolize the emptiness that would later be felt in the middle-class experience of America.

            These three pieces considered together reinforce the idea of America as a place full of possibilities and potentialities dependent upon personal worldviews and outlooks. Johns’ Map is colorful and bright, a simple piece, but not simplistic. Wegman and his fantasy landscape shows an imagination run wild, and like his other works involving his dog Man Ray, it is pure whimsy. It is a chuckle in the face of over-serious viewers. Finally, Arbus’ photograph is a snapshot of loneliness and alienation. It is indicative of an empty existence, waiting to be filled with relationships and meaning. In the vacuum of that factory-built, sterile living room in Levittown, the only thing that can be produced is children, or more accurately, future consumers—cogs in the machine of the American economy.

Today, it seems that any worthy discussion regarding art and pseudo-modernism must be couched by two broad signifiers; consumerism, and the impact of the events of 9/11. These two issues stroll, hand-in-hand, across the collective psyche of America. Of course, some people (such as artists, musicians, and writers) are more sensitive to the effects and ramifications of these two cultural juggernauts, while others are happy to meander through life in a sugar and trans-fat induced walking coma.

            For his part, photographer Paul Shambroom is wide awake. His work explores the power structures of the world, especially as they relate to the realities of a post-9/11 milieu. His photograph Level A HAZMAT suit, yellow, speaks to the paranoia of a new age, but it is also an echo of the past. The bright yellow of the suit brings to mind the atomic age, and is a jarring contrast against the fertile green of the forest in the background. It is reminiscent of more than one Black Sabbath album cover, and I think that the connection would not be lost on Shambroom. Although Black Sabbath could easily be dismissed as having little value in a discussion of pseudo-modern art, it is important to note that many of their songs dealt with alienation and were often offered as a commentary on power structures. This parallel, while of arguable import, should not be ignored. Often, popular art (be it music, or visual) is more subversive than it is sometimes given credit for. Much of their music was a response to the fear of living in the nuclear age, beneath the shadow of the bomb. Black Sabbath aside, Shambrooms photo is only one of a series that deal with this new picture of America. The artist has also published a series of photographs that tell the story of America and its relationship with the nuclear bomb, entitled Face to Face with the bomb: nuclear reality after the Cold War. Until 9/11, American citizens hadn’t been required to experience the horrors of war first hand. The experience was distant, and the events often unfolded after the fact in a movie theater via the skilled performances of Lee Marvin and John Wayne. We were protected by dissociation. To that, there is a dissociative quality about this photograph, but is its goal to protect…or to warn? Is it a stretch to consider this man in the yellow suit as a faceless minion of an evil empire set on subjugation and control? Or is it just an entry in the catalog of products of the 21^st century?

            In the 21^st century the internet is a blessing and a curse. In the halcyon days before the internet, we had limited access to information. Comparatively, now we are inundated with it. It takes a keen and discerning mind to wade through the dross, otherwise one experiences overload. But in those days of blissful ignorance, the McDonalds fast food chain was still one of the good guys. You could still enjoy a Coke-Cola without too guilty of a conscience. Sure, you might hear conspiracies of the acidic power of soda pop to melt aluminum, or that McDonalds used all sorts of additives in the production of their food. Even icons of American popular culture were still immune to much of the criticism that they are subject to today. It is difficult to deny the negative effects of a fast food diet when Morgan Spurlock sacrifices his health by eating nothing but McDonalds in the 2004 documentary Supersize Me. Only in the internet age could that movie have reached such a wide audience. Today, there are no sacred cows, and that is a good thing. We can look at the art of Ron English, specifically Super Supper, as a prime example of the new power that Americans have access to. Not so long ago, Americans remained in the dark (mostly) about what a healthy diet consisted of. Thanks to artists like English we are urged to question those notions that we have lived with for so long. Is it because of our own choices that we are overweight and dying in droves of heart disease and diabetes? Or, are we victims of an advertising machine that seeks to make us fat and apathetic to the world around us? After all, if we are all fat, miserable slugs then the real horrors of the world won’t have nearly the impact that they should. English is a self-proclaimed “popagandist” and his penchant for culture jamming is boundless. It is apparent that he has a goal in mind, when a fat Ronald McDonald is depicted seated as Jesus at the table of the Last Supper with his disciples of pop culture. Have Americans crucified McDonalds? Has Ronald McDonald died for all of our sins of gluttony, greed, and sloth?

            What has become of our dreams? Why are we at such odds with “the powers that be”? And is that truly the reality? Most of us are happy to shuffle about the planet, buying things, eating things, and drinking things. We consume with great zeal the pink slime that is fed to us through the tubes of popular culture. Our lives are a performance, and Facebook is the ultimate performance within a performance. I wonder what would happen if our reality suddenly shifted, and Facebook was shut down? It is my hope that we could get back to the business of living, instead of consuming. It is likely that an artist like Banksy has similar hopes for humanity. His street art seems to portray that message. His efforts exist to shift the viewer’s consciousness, indeed to place something thought-provoking that wasn’t there before. It would be folly to think that his art is simply graffiti, for words on a wall are seldom ignored. Critics of Banksy (and his street artist comrades) are quick to dismiss street art as simple vandalism. They claim that it serves no meaningful purpose and adds to the plight of already suffering neighborhoods. Hmm? Could it be that they are just upset at the power of street art like Banksy’s to detract from corporate advertising? After all, his work isn’t terribly offensive, and indeed many of his pieces are whimsical in nature, revolutionary…but with a twist of innocence. The subversive nature of his work is likely the real issue. One piece depicts a man, his face covered with a bandana as if he were involved in a protest action, throwing a bouquet of flowers like a Molotov cocktail. It is a lovely sentiment, if slightly naïve, and it hearkens back to the message of peace postulated by the hippie movement in the 1960’s. There is a piece that seems to be more valuable, especially in regards to the focus of this essay. Follow Your Dreams is a piece of street art that appeared in Boston in the early 2000’s. It shows a simple graffiti tag stating “Follow Your Dreams”, and standing next to it is a man armed with bucket and brush, who has pasted a red “cancelled” stamp over top of the message. The man, wearing simple clothes, seems to have a guilty conscience. Almost like he was only doing his job. The piece sums up the message that many of these pseudo-modern artists are trying to get across to us. The machine of America will continue on, its citizens merely meat for the beast that must be fed. Our dreams will continue to be cancelled and replaced by the Facebook of the future. At least, that is how I have received Banksy’s message.

            In the end, we know not what the future holds. With the help of artists such as the six that have been discussed here, we may suddenly wake up from our collective coma and begin to see each other again, or to hear music for the first time from the unlikeliest of sources. Maybe as enjoyers of art we could meet them in the middle. Perhaps we can log off of Facebook from time to time, so that we can take the time to foster real relationships again. Maybe true love is right in front of us, but our realities have been replaced by the hyper-reality that Eco speaks of, and we are simply unable to appreciate it or even see it. It is easy to simply enjoy art—to delight in experiencing something new. The real challenge is being receptive to the deeper meanings offered to us by artists like Jasper Johns or Ron English, and allowing a new idea to worm its way into our brain. While there are ample opportunities for us to remain contentious and adversarial with each other and the world around us, always struggling to find a better job, a better house, a better life—perhaps it would be more beneficial for us to actually produce less and just simply be.

All images are borrowed and belong to the original artist.

            

Roky Erickson: Sociologically Speaking

In 1969, Roky Erickson, lead singer of the influential psychedelic rock group The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, languished in Texas’s Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He had run afoul of local law enforcement earlier in the year for a minor drug offense, and was on their radar as a person of interest. There exists a notion of the Sixties as being a time characterized by freedom of choice, a time when experimentation with various drugs was acceptable, if not encouraged. Texas, though, was different-- and Roky Erickson can attest to that. The Texas state government took a hardline stance against drugs and drug offenders in the sixties and seventies, a position that endures to this day. To illustrate just how draconian Texas drug policy was in the psychedelic Sixties, one is urged to consider the story of Roky Erickson.

Born Roger Kynard Erickson on July 15, 1947, Roky took to music at an early age. By the age of 10, Roky was showing some promise as a guitarist and harmonica player. In his mid-teens, Roky dropped out of high school rather than conform to their policy of short haircuts, and began playing music with other local musicians. Eventually, he and some friends would form The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, and coin the term psychedelic rock. Their first album, The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13^th Floor Elevators, would be released in 1966, featuring the single “You’re Gonna Miss Me”. Roky and his band mates would enjoy a modicum of success, with the record charting well in the American Southwest, and also appearing on the national charts, albeit at a lower position. This early success would lead to an appearance on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand, and West Coast tours for the Elevators, offering support for such high-profile acts as The Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver Messenger Service, and Moby Grape (www.rokyerickson.net). The Elevator’s frantic sound, characterized by Roky’s screaming Texas caterwaul, an electrified whiskey jug, and feedback-drenched distorted guitars, coupled with their lysergically-manufactured lyrics, would have a marked influence on the artists of the time. But the success was not to last.

While attending the 1969 World’s Fair in San Antonio, Roky Erickson was arrested for marijuana possession (www.rokyerickson.net). The amount that he is said to have been in possession of ranges from one to six joints. According to Texas law at the time, the amount was enough to imprison Roky for up to ten years. At the urging of his court appointed attorney, Roky plead insanity, in hopes of receiving a reduced sentence. The judge committed Roky to the Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where doctors diagnosed him with schizophrenia. Roky would spend three years incarcerated, subjected to repeated sessions of electroconvulsive therapy and thorazine treatments. While incarcerated, Roky began to write lyrics and poetry, often involving imagery of demons and angels. The treatment that he received had a profound effect on his psyche, and when he was finally released in 1972, he began a new career, punctuated by bouts of heroin addiction and schizophrenia.

The 2005 documentary “You’re Gonna Miss Me” details Roky Erickson’s recovery from obscurity, and his decades long battle with schizophrenia. The movie offers much insight into the struggles and challenges that families face when mental illness exists. Importantly, the camera never looks at Roky with a piteous eye, but unfortunately, it is hard for the viewer not to. In a scene that illustrates his illness, Roky sits in a recliner in his tiny, cluttered apartment. He wears giant blue-blocker sunglasses over his eyes, as a constant assault of white noise, static, and voices blare from radios, televisions, and modulators situated around the room. Roky is taking a nap, and must drown out the voices in his head. The documentary is sometimes sad to watch, but the extras offered on the DVD more than reassure sympathetic fans as to Roky’s place in the musical landscape.

According to the documentary, Roky’s days of using illegal, mind-altering substances are a thing of the past (Erickson). However, in considering his past use, it is likely that it began as experimentation, as supported by the social psychological theory of drug use. This theory posits that nearly anyone, from any walk of life, is potentially at risk of becoming involved with drugs (Thio 287). The social psychological theory suggests that drug use is so ubiquitous in a culture, as a response there is a more permissive view on drugs, legal and otherwise (288). On the surface, America in the late 1960’s could be regarded as the pinnacle of socially accepted drug use, but a closer look may reveal that today’s America is far more permissive. After all, the romantic notions of the hippie movement are largely figments of America’s collective consciousness, and it is important to realize that ‘dope smokers’ and ‘acid heads’ were very much considered to be on the fringe in Middle America. Drugs were considered evil, and it is in this era that Nixon’s war on drugs began in earnest. Today, drugs are still considered a social ill, but lawmakers have shifted their focus away from psychedelics in response to the new dangers of methamphetamine and less recently, crack cocaine.

In considering drug use and abuse, it is worth noting lawmaker’s opinions in a historical context. Drug policy in America is often shaped not by a loving, caring state whose interests lie in rehabilitating unfortunate drug-addicted citizens—conversely, it is almost always shaped by economically and racially motivated interests (Thio 288). Many examples of these policies exist, starting with the anti-opium laws of the late 1800’s (which were essentially anti-Chinese laws) and extending to the present day drug laws, which are obviously connected to hot button issues such as illegal immigration, prison-for-profit, and pharmaceutical company’s bottom lines (289). It is not apparent that there were racial motivations for incarcerating hippies in the 1960’s, but there were definitely economic motivations at work. The hippie movement challenged the status quo, and as vocal opponents of the conflict in Vietnam, they represented a threat to the establishment. In the eyes of law enforcement at the time, there was arguably no better way to handle drug offenders than incarceration, even if it meant committing them to a mental institution.

Unfortunately, Roky’s traumatic experiences in Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane were not anomalous for the era, and likely contributed to further damaging an already fragile mental state. The mentally ill have been mistreated since the earliest of human civilizations. As far back as the Stone Age, someone was trying to pry open somebody else’s skull in an attempt to see what was misfiring, and evidence suggests that these examples exist as the earliest lobotomies (Thio 183). During the middle Ages, European leaders of the Christian church burned or hanged thousands of potentially mentally ill men, women, and children citing their practice in witchcraft and possession by demon entities as justification (183). In recent times, however America’s attitude towards the mentally ill has been one of misunderstanding and prejudice. Specifically, diagnosed schizophrenics like Roky Erickson have had a tough row to hoe for many years. In the mental institutions of mid-century America it was not uncommon for patients to be subjected to involuntary electro-shock therapy and thorazine treatments, among other unpleasant things. Further, patients in state mental institutions aren’t referred to as patients, inferring the existence of an illness, but as inmates (188). Sadly, these “inmates” are often on the receiving end of a variety of abusive, dehumanizing behaviors, including sexual abuse, overmedication, and neglect (188). Thankfully for the music world, Roky was released and able to continue his career, and some could argue that he was armed with new insight and inspiration fueled by his experiences while incarcerated at Rusk.

Alternatively, is it possible that Roky and others like him are not actually ill? Constructionist theorizers working under the assumptions of the labeling model argue that what society defines as insanity could actually be considered supersanity (Thio 196). British psychiatrist R.D. Laing’s opinions on mental illness challenge much of what is understood about the human brain. He suggests that modern psychiatrists don’t fully understand the nature of space and time. Furthermore, he asserts that what we view as insanity is actually an attenuation with one’s own inner realities (197). Cultures throughout history and pre-history have attempted through various methods to accomplish this attenuation. Interestingly, one of the primary tools used is some sort of mind altering substance, whether peyote for Native Americans, mushrooms for tribal Siberian elk hunters, or simply marijuana or LSD for psychedelic rockers. Conversely, Laing’s controversial experiments eschewed the use of drugs altogether. Ultimately, Laing’s unique approach cured many of the patients that he worked with (197).

My first exposure to Roky Erickson and his body of work was in the early 2000’s. I continue to be entranced by his songs about creatures with atom brains, two-headed dogs and moonlit strolls with a zombie date. Sweeter fare such as ‘Starry Eyes’ or ‘For You (I’d Do Anything)’, bring a bittersweet tear to the eye. As I delved deeper into his personal story, I was surprised to learn of his sometimes dire straits and pleased by his many triumphant rebirths. Erickson’s artistic output is truly unique, but unfortunately his story is not. There are countless people suffering from severe mental illness and drug addiction in America today. Sadly, most of them do not have access to the support network of fans, friends, and family that Roky Erickson has.  

Obviously, the most important consideration of drug abuse or mental illness in society is how we choose to treat it. Today, it seems America is moving (however slow a crawl) towards a more enlightened approach to drug use prevention and treatment. The haze of decades of ineffectual policies and treatment methods may finally be beginning to fade, as law enforcement agencies, doctors, and politicians are able to see how damaging and costly this War on Drugs has been. Hopefully, as our understanding of addiction and mental illness continues to increase, and we are able to develop more effective and less damaging medications, lives will improve.

To some Roky’s story, and ones similar to it, serve as a lesson or warning of what can happen when, motivated by fear and prejudice, doctors and legislators impose aggressive treatments and policies on illnesses and conditions that we don’t understand. To others, his story stands as a singular success as to what can happen when a sick individual is rehabilitated through proper therapy and medical treatment. Of course, without his family—namely, his brother Sumner who fought in court to obtain legal custody of his older brother, Roky’s fate would have been left to government officials to decide. The story stands as a testament to family responsibility, and the role we play in one another’s lives. In the end, it is probably best to be thankful that extraordinarily talented visionaries like Roky Erickson pop up from time to time. The world is a richer place with him in it. Sometimes though, it is important to peek behind the curtain. Back there are the advocates: the concerned brothers, husbands, and friends who protect those who aren’t able to protect themselves.

Works Cited

Thio, Alex. Deviant Behavior. New York: Pearson, 2010.

www.rokyerickson.net. n.d. 27 November 2011 <http://www.rokyerickson.net/index3.php>.

You're Gonna Miss Me. Dir. Keven McAlester. Perf. Roky Erickson. 2005.

Image is borrowed and is the property of the original artist.