On Sunday night, Robert Plant came to town in Spokane, Washington. Just as many other socially aware artists and entertainers increasingly use their positions of influence to help spread awareness and activism, Mr. Plant (former frontman for the band Led Zeppelin, you may have heard of them) brought young climate activist Greta Thunberg with him— at least virtually. And much of the crowd went nuts. Literally.
In a fascinating microcosm that reflects the dark anonymity and occasional safe cowardice of social media, the crowd first applauded heartily as the lights drew down, anticipating the appearance of the legendary Plant following the opening act. As a clip of Thunberg speaking at the United Nations to world leaders was projected on the stage curtain as a prelude to the show, the applause thundered louder. And then a strange thing happened, as the audience trisected into supporters, silent observers, and hostile hecklers. The vocal jeers and boos seemed to be trying to compete with the positive reception, as if it had offended their sensibilities somehow.
“Stop using the kids!”
”You’re a plant!”
”Shut up!”
”Boooo! Go Home!” (To which I turned around and replied, “Take your own advice if you don’t like it, and please stop spewing vitriol in my ear.”)
It was a bit… disconcerting.
For those not familiar with Spokane in eastern Washington, it’s the second largest city in that state behind the Seattle metro area. And with the presence of Gonzaga University and several other colleges in the vicinity (WSU, Whitworth), you might expect a bit of introduced diversity to what was founded as a railroad and transportation hub, an “Inland Empire” a breath away from Idaho. But as we have in a few places on the West Coast, there’s a vertical Mason Dixon line down the Cascade range, that not only turns the climate into high desert to the east, but acts as a natural demarcation to the fertility of cosmopolitan cultures found in the I-5 corridor to the west. Like Oregon, the progressiveness and diverseness of that western vein is offset by the more conservative rurality of the rest of the state. Coupling that with the reputation of Northern Idaho being a haven for a few Aryan Nation sympathizers, the general area can tend towards a preponderance of coal-rollers, MAGA hats and aversion to things deemed progressive.
Which brings us back to the concert. (Which was AMAZING. Robert Plant has all of the verve he had 50 years ago, a bit attenuated but wow, this was bucket list material. And should have been showed that level of deference and respect, in conceited opinion.) There were maybe 3 people of color in the whole venue of 2,700 seats (filled mostly to capacity), so it was rather rebel-yell and whoo-hoo rocker, hippie more than hipster, tilting towards the AARP side of the spectrum. Raiments varied between Deadhead tie-dyes to Santana concert shirts, camo-caps and blue-collar hoodies to blouses, oxfords and classy evening concertwear. An eclectic crowd, despite its pasty visual homogeneity.
That’s why the viscerally antagonistic reactions from the crowd that apparently disapproved of Mr. Plant’s using his platform as he was privileged to see fit was a strange concoction of cognitive dissonance. These same people who were hissing and booing, were standing, applauding (and unfortunately dancing and blocking views), and paying homage to someone who would likely not have preferred their company given their rude jeering outbursts at his shared message (and that of Ms. Thunberg). It seemed to reflect the contemptful and contemptible behavior of social media these days, where someone can show hateful and hurtful behavior with relative anonymity and impunity, hiding in the dark and throwing rocks with little fear of reprisal or repercussion. The same folks that would share a laugh with a coworker of color, and then go retweet a hateful message that targets that same coworker. It’s fascinating and distressing, even terrifying, at the same time.
But the behavior was representative of a much larger psychology. There were a few women 2 rows in front of me who insisted on standing and dancing for large portions of the show. Either oblivious or apathetic to the needs and desires of those behind them who had paid more than $100 each to see more than their gyrating backsides and raised hands. And it occurred to me that they don’t care. We finally had some ask them to please sit while others were sitting, and they waved us off. To call it narcissistic may be extreme, but the selfishness was apparent. There was no civility, no need but their own. I, at 6’1” made sure before the show that the people behind me could see past me without me hunching down, because that’s common decency. So perhaps the fault is mine for having an antiquated expectation.
As I write this diary, I’m listening to a 1956 Miles Davis concert in Pasadena, wherein the emcee welcomed the crowd, and explained there was a tradition there. He asked everyone to get up, turn around, and introduce themselves to the people in front and behind them, and to either side. Fantastic. Perhaps it’s a little easier to consider others when you have looked them in the eye as another human being, and bridged the divide. May we return to the day when that is, again, the norm rather than the exception.