My sense is that if most people know any reference to the music of Gil Scott-Heron ("GSH") nowadays, it would likely be the title of his arch, sardonic proto-rap single "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," from the 1974 compilation album of that name. For many of us who grew up in the mid-1970s, this GSH album was the Richard Pryor concert of music -- the rebellious and pugnacious and smart as hell spirit of Malcolm X in 40 or so minutes. It was a common fixture in the record collections of the hosts of parties I attended then, and one that, when I was hosting, a guest was likely to pull out to play.
This song contained not only proto-rap, but some of the most beautiful and haunting songs you could ever want to hear, such as "Lady Day" and "Pieces of a Man." But the one that prompts this diary, on the 40th anniversary of the landing of Apollo 11, is "Whitey on the Moon," because I can't think of the events of that day without thinking of that song and the challenge that it offers.
The first thing that I have to address, I suppose, is the song's use of a racial slur in the title. It is, in some sense, "not OK," and yet I have to say that being white I'm more likely to react to it with a snicker than with fear or umbrage at an insult to my dignity. I understand why he says it. If you don't, well, maybe this video or lyrics below will offer a hint.
"Whitey on the Moon"
Whitey on the Moon
A rat done bit my sister Nell.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Her face and arms began to swell.
(and Whitey's on the moon)
I can't pay no doctor bill.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
Ten years from now I'll be payin' still.
(while Whitey's on the moon)
The man jus' upped my rent las' night.
('cause Whitey's on the moon)
No hot water, no toilets, no lights.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
I wonder why he's uppi' me?
('cause Whitey's on the moon?)
I wuz already payin' 'im fifty a week.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Taxes takin' my whole damn check,
Junkies makin' me a nervous wreck,
The price of food is goin' up,
An' as if all that shit wuzn't enough:
A rat done bit my sister Nell.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Her face an' arm began to swell.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
Was all that money I made las' year
(for Whitey on the moon?)
How come there ain't no money here?
(Hmm! Whitey's on the moon)
Y'know I jus' 'bout had my fill
(of Whitey on the moon)
I think I'll sen' these doctor bills,
Air. Mail. Special
(to Whitey on the moon)
We have a contingent here on Daily Kos (I won't name names) that spends a great deal of its effort promoting space exploration. For some people, my sense is that it might be all of their effort; I haven't checked people's comments, but I have no real sense that some of the posters are progressive or even interested in politics aside from space policy at all. Some may argue that that's OK, because advocacy of space exploration is progressive in itself. I accept that, to an extent, in that it opposes anti-science forces, but I am less than fully convinced -- and largely for the sorts of reasons that GSH presents in his song.
I had a libertarian friend in college -- a fellow anti-draft-registration activist, speaking of causes that no one remembers -- who was convinced that humanity would sooner or later destroy the planet and that our only hope was to colonize other places to live, which struck me as, at a minimum, going about ensuring species survival the hard way. I don't recall whether we ever discussed it -- I think so, but I don't want to level a charge I can't support -- but I strongly suspect that in his mind the sorts of people who would be sent to outer space were not the likes of the narrator's Sister Nell. This was due to class, not race; Sister Nell was unlikely to get the education she would need to be of the class that my libertarian friend would consider useful. What I think eluded him is that Sister Nell therefore had no stake in his plans -- and, in fact, had some stake in opposing them, or at least opposing public spending on them.
I'm not going to defend the fine points of GSH's political economic analysis here. He was in his early 20s when this song came out, after all, and my sense is that it was written in reaction to one of the later Apollo flights -- yes, by Apollo 16 and 17, the public reaction to them had come to seem somewhat blasé, believe it or not -- when public spending on the space program was met with greater skepticism. But I will defend the emotional aspect of his complaint here, which is the feeling that the political establishment (to which he assigns the offensive name) is negotiating a separate peace, one that excludes the interests of him, his sister, and those similarly situation -- notably those without health care, who "can't pay no doctor bill."
My message to advocates of space exploration, then, on this 40th anniversary (DKos time) of the first steps that human beings took on the moon, is to listen to this Gil Scott-Heron song with empathy. He is not necessarily your enemy, although he is certainly willing to be. He needs a stake -- an actual stake, not promises of pie in the sky -- in your program's success, because the problems he faces are literally more mundane, like a sister's limbs swelling because of rat bites. The stake comes from you, as space advocates, being part of and supporting a broad progressive agenda, for which you may ask the support of Gil and Nell (and me) in return. You think that you've earned it because you see your work as being on the cutting edge of humanity. Perhaps you are -- but if you seek public money, then Nell is no less on that cutting edge, because she is going to pay the taxes that pay your salary.
I recognize (and celebrate) that NASA has made great strides -- consciously and conscientiously -- in establishing diversity among both astronauts and others involved in space exploration. But wouldn't it be great if advocates of space exploration themselves dedicated themselves to a project that helps Sister Nell and those like her, such as using their political weight to ensure that every child who can't otherwise afford it received an enriched education in science and math. Let NASA and its champions play a major role in making sure that all children, even those in the inner cities and rural villages, can dream of the stars, and then you have an answer to the indictment present in this song.