For comedy writers and late-

night personalities, the Trump 
presidency seemed to come with a 
silver lining: It was an unexcavated 
gold mine of material. Unless the 
nuclear holocaust arrived faster 
than expected, his four-year term 
would 
be 
commemorated 
by 

hilarious 
impressions, 
quotable 

moments and general buffoonery.

The blissful avoidance of the 

ramifications of Trump’s election 
that 
marked 
the 
television 

immediately following Nov. 9, 2016 
was a clear indication that nothing 
had been learned from the election 
itself. The campaign was treated 
as a farce — thus the results were 
what we received. Now, there also 
seemed to be an underestimation 
of his ability to implement concrete 
change that could regress our 
country. The eagerness with which 
late-night personalities raced to 
joke again, in spite of the gravity of 
our situation, now reminds me in 
a lot of ways of the joyous, careless 
send-off marches that preceded 
World War I. Despite there being 
an understanding that the soldiers 
were entering into a war, no one 
truly knew the hell they were in for. 
People had survived wars before; as 
a country, we had endured terrible 
presidents.

We were gonna be fine. Right?
Just like the fate of the soldiers, 

two years later, common Americans 
still find ourselves fighting the war 
from the trenches with no clear end 

to the madness in sight. However, 
for those in television, life inside the 
trenches looks a bit different. A new 
renaissance of late-night television 
has dawned. A mere four years ago, 
“Saturday Night Live” was clinging 
onto the last strands of relevancy, 
and people were solely tuning into 
“Jimmy Kimmel Live” to see Mean 
Tweets. But in 2018, the world 
of late night has been completely 
overturned by the results of the 
2016 election. Network ratings 
are 
booming 
and 
late-night 

personalities are more relevant and 
influential than ever before.

In 
the 
beginning, 
it 
was 

therapeutic to laugh along and 
marvel at the seemingly golden 
age of comedy into which we had 
entered, but two years down the 
line, my laugh lines have begun to 
show. As I watch the continuous 
attacks on marginalized groups and 
the appointment of more officials 
armed with the ability to strip away 
human rights, simply laughing 
along feels almost hollow.

I had to ponder why.
Despite the variances for each 

late-night program — from Jimmy 
Fallon’s 
choreographed, 
tepid 

shots at Trump to Seth Meyers’s 
more analytical dissection of his 
ineptitude 
to 
Samantha 
Bee’s 

outright, overt assault on the 
Trump administration — when 
you distill it down, everyone seems 
to be saying the same thing. These 
identical takes become even more 
troubling when you realize that 
despite feeling like we’re “sticking it 
to the man” by laughing, in reality, 
nothing is being done. Two years 
later, I have come to wonder what 

even is the point anymore?

In regards to news satires like 

“The Daily Show” or “Full Frontal 
with Samantha Bee,” the argument 
could be made that these programs’ 
“point” is to educate. Through 
laughter, we learn. I will not refute 
this point, as I can attest to the fact 
that I have learned plenty of useful 
information from these programs. 
However, this positive effect hinges 
on the simple question of who is 
watching — or rather, who wants to 
watch. While our country is more 
polarized than ever in terms of 
liberal versus conservative, there 
still remains a large sector of the 
population that considers itself to 
be moderate.

As a leftist Black feminist, I 

sought out programs like “The 
Daily Show” or “Full Frontal with 
Samantha Bee.” Frankly, moderates 
who are too apathetic to even 
definitively pick a side are not going 
to seek out these shows because 
of the very fact that they are, well, 
apathetic. Thus, the information 
that 
could 
be 
considered 

educational for those who do not 
know it already, or do not know that 
they should care about it is being 
presented to the liberals who have 
already bought the product the 
writers and personalities are selling. 
These programs’ “niche-ness” is a 
double-edged sword: While being 
able to take a more hardlined stance 
against the Trump administration, 
they are too niche to reach the 
audience that would make them 
effective. They’re screaming into 
the void.

On the other hand, network 

late-night shows face the opposite 
affliction. 
Nightly 
late-night 

variety shows often fly under 
the radar of critique because, 
traditionally, their purpose has 
been to entertain. Although now 
the opening monologues more 
often swing politically, there are 
still wacky sidekicks, funny bits 
and celebrity guests. Because of this 
“entertainment” appeal, the major 
networks of ABC, NBC and CBS 
still reach the broadest audience 
and report the highest ratings.

Unlike the more niche cable 

programming, a vast array of 
people are watching. However, 
because of this very fact, they 
must take a “safer” stance on 
divisive issues. With this in mind, 
it should come as no surprise that 

Seth Meyers, a more open critic 
of 
President 
Trump, 
receives 

lower ratings than Jimmy Fallon, 
who keeps his show as neutral as 
possible but will sometimes bend 
to pressure and half-heartedly 
mock 45. This presents a chicken-
and-egg conundrum: Are these 
shows highest rated because they 
are apolitical? Or rather, are they 
apolitical because they have the 
highest ratings? Either way you 
slice it, it’s the same issue; people are 
missing out on the opportunity to 
hear the better, analytical critique 
of the administration.

As much as it hurts me as a TV 

buff to admit it, our salvation from 
this administration will not be 
delivered solely through television 
personalities and witty monologue 
one-liners. 
Despite 
Trump’s 

obsession with what is occurring 
in the media, in reality, comedians 
are doing no more than just getting 
under his skin. Although this is a 
noble feat (who wouldn’t want to 
piss the guy off?), it is no substitute 
for real, substantiated change.

While I am not suggesting a 

temporary hold on all comedy 
until the regime is ousted, I am 
suggesting that we do not rely on 
sharing funny clips of Colbert on 
Facebook to like-minded friends 
as our only form of objection to 
the policies and acts of our current 
executive branch. It will not be 
and has never been enough to 
merely laugh along while the world 
crumbles, because before you know 
it, the laughter will subside and 
you’ll discover a world you no longer 
recognize.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, October 25, 2018 — 3B

A sense of rebellion is woven 

deeply into the American identity. 
While the last 250 years have 
proven that the people of the United 
States and their government have 
become experts at maintaining the 
status quo, there is still a part of our 
national identity that celebrates 
the notion that to be “American” 
is to react against something, 
sometimes against the institution of 
America itself. This was especially 
prevalent during the 20 years of 
the Vietnam War, a period during 
which political turmoil directly 
danced with massive cultural 
upheaval and rebirth. The center 
of this change rested squarely 
in the hands of varied social and 
political movements of the time, 
which leaned heavily on artistic 
expression and colored the Vietnam 
era with poignant commentary on 
its realities. In the face of death, 
confusion and the stagnant trudge 
of war, American counterculture 
paved a path through the muck by 
creating music that would last the 
test of time.

The political background of the 

Vietnam War was complicated 
and messy, the combination of 
a society entrenched in anti-
Communist rhetoric and the need 
to display American strength on an 
international scale. Lasting from 
1955 to 1975, the period during 

which Vietnam affected U.S. society 
spanned two decades and resulted 
in tens of thousands of American 
and Vietnamese casualties, leaving 
the nation at a loss for what the war 
truly meant in a historical context. 
To some, it was to establish stable 
democracy and eliminate Chinese 
influence in a new and warring 
nation. To others, the reason for 
conflict in Vietnam was obscure, 
a long-lasting fight that had no 
clear goal or end in sight. Though 
the older and more conservative 
generations maintained their belief 
in the war’s necessity, their voices 
were largely unrepresented in the 
artistic movements of the time. 
Country music artists like Merle 
Haggard remained supportive of 
the government throughout much 
of the war, but in comparison to 
the popularity of countercultural 
anthems, its pro-America messages 
were overshadowed.

Initially, the war gained support 

from a majority of Americans, but as 
time went on and deaths mounted, 
the national perspective began to 
shift toward ambivalence, while 
the massive population of nearly 80 
million young Baby Boomers kicked 
an anti-war effort into gear. The 
impetus of anguish for this youth 
movement was only exacerbated by 
the military draft, sending college 
campuses and urban centers across 
the country into action. With this 
action, the American tradition 
of rebellion was represented in 
their music, a medium by which 

communication 
was 
possible 

through the visceral power of song. 
These tunes would become the face 
of a generation and a period of time 
alike, framing the unrest of an era 
with songs heavy with soul and a 
timeless message of change against 
all odds. The spirit of freedom to 
fight for one’s beliefs continued in 
the hearts of musicians and fans 
alike during the Vietnam era, a 
protest for peace that continues to 
affect the country’s music today.

Before 
the 
Vietnam 
War’s 

influence truly reached American 
society, protest music was already 
in full force in response to the Civil 
Rights movement of the late ’50s 
and early ’60s. Artists like Joan 
Baez, Bob Dylan and Simon & 
Garfunkel stood at the forefront of 
the early folk music revival scene, 
which grew out of New York City’s 
Greenwich Village and into the 
ears of listeners across the country. 
Baez’s song “Birmingham Sunday,” 
among 
others, 
displayed 
the 

struggles of the battle for civil rights 
in America, while outstretching a 
hand for others to join the cause 
through the simplicity and bare-
bones style of folk music itself. 
The genre at its root was forged 
in the working man’s toils, so it 
was only natural for its sound to 
carry a message of empowerment 
and social awareness in a time of 
political uneasiness. When the 
war’s effects became more and 
more apparent in folk’s strongholds, 
the music began to reflect anti-

war sentiment and a painfully true 
commentary on the war’s effects on 
both soldiers and those still at home. 
From this, music like Dylan’s iconic 
song “Blowin’ in the Wind” was 
born, stamping a permanent mark 
in U.S. music history while fueling 
the debate around the war’s obtuse 
purpose and seemingly senseless 
violence. The message of folk 
music from that time was a clear 
analysis of what the international 
destruction of Vietnam meant in 
the context of already existing 
domestic 
turmoil, 
calling 
the 

listener to look deeper into the 
superficial peace of daily life to see 
a system in need of change.

While folk music colored much 

of the early ’60s protest songs, 
the anti-war message began to 
shift into rock and psychedelia as 
counterculture merged with many 
of the time’s youth movements. 
Protests 
erupted 
across 
the 

country in areas with high youth 
populations, only heightened by the 
massive scale of the Baby Boomer 
generation. 
Buffalo 
Springfield, 

then Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young 
and Creedence Clearwater Revival 
merged rock with the organic 
sound of folk, creating music with 
a direct and piercingly honest core. 
They highlighted the realities of 
government oppression in songs 
like “Ohio,” which commented on 
the Kent State Massacre of four 
student protesters in 1970, and 
“Fortunate Son,” a meditation on 
the inherent inequalities of the 

CLARA SCOTT
Daily Arts Writer

WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

Stop! What’s that sound?: How the 
Vitnam War changed music forever

B-SIDE SECONDARY

war’s draft lottery system that 
became the unofficial anthem of 
the anti-war effort. The pop rock ‘n’ 
roll of the ’60s shifted into a darker, 
grittier version of itself in response 
to the political and social conflict 
of popular culture, with bands like 
The Beatles and the Rolling Stones 
moving into more experimental 
territory with albums such as 
Revolver and Let it Bleed. This edgier 
side to rock has stayed put since, 
becoming the standard for the genre 
as time has gone on.

But the image most have of 

the Vietnam era is of the hippie 
counterculture, 
of 
Woodstock 

’69 and Jimi Hendrix smashing 
guitars. This too was a response 
to the period’s social discord, as 
thousands of young, largely white 
and middle-class Americans joined 
the movement to embrace free 
love. They gathered at festivals 
like Monterey Pop to communally 
celebrate their music while joining 
hands against the negativity and 
confusion of wartime. The hippies 
were the face of that counterculture, 
especially in light of the drug 
culture that wove its way into their 
art and practices. They were not 
protesters, but rather purveyors of 
a peaceful mentality supported by 
pacifism and a kernel of ignorance. 
Psychedelic 
drugs 
like 
LSD 

influenced both the spiritual aspects 
and creative approach of the hippie 
movement, producing bands like 
Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful 
Dead’s whimsical sound. As the 
war reached its peak in the early 
’70s and devolved, so did the hippie 
counterculture and its popularity, 
leaving its style and music behind 
as many devotees descended into 
drug abuse or left the movement 
altogether. The “Summer of Love” 
in 1967 was arguably the climax of 
“free love” culture, a community 
assemblage that celebrated their 
customs and ideology. From there, 
hippie neighborhoods like San 
Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district 
lost their glory quickly, leaving 
their music and aesthetic appeal as 
a lasting token of the movement’s 
ideals and highest achievements. 

While folk, rock and psychedelia 

created the sound of an era for 
white America, black soul and blues 
artists also continued their own 
path against the social tumult of the 
’60s and ’70s. Artists such as Marvin 
Gaye brought Motown and other 
R&B labels into the political sphere 
with records like 1971 release What’s 
Going On, the title track of which 
became a timeless representation of 
that era and others like it. “Father, 
father,” Gaye sings, “We don’t need 
to escalate / You see, war is not the 
answer / For only love can conquer 
hate.” These lyrics, among others 
from the period across every genre, 
show the universal application of 
protest and politically conscious 
art throughout time. “What’s Going 

On” could easily have been written 
today, or post-9/11, or during the 
HIV / AIDS epidemic in the ’90s. 
The political tenor of the Vietnam 
War’s music remains a large part 
of American pop music today, 
specifically in the darker, more 
direct themes seen in rock and 
folk music of the modern age. The 
generation that popularized this 
time’s most lasting music was huge, 
millions and millions of people born 
after WWII that brought the spirit 
of protest from their youth into the 
future and passed it along to their 
children. Overall, the themes of 
Vietnam era music are relevant in 
any time period, and a combination 
of poignant messages, truly great 
arrangement and the commitment 
of those who loved it to keep the 
melody in the public eye for decades.

It could be argued that the 

political turmoil of today’s Trump 
administration could offer the 
same fodder for musical and artistic 
development that the Vietnam 
War did, but the issue is slightly 
more complex. In the Vietnam 
era, the anti-war effort was easy 
to understand even if the purpose 
of the war wasn’t, and it gave the 
counterculture 
the 
opportunity 

to unite against a clear force. The 
Civil Rights Movement and Second-
Wave Feminism intermingled with 
this counterculture, but the goal of 
counterculture’s music was more 
crystalline than it is today. In 2018’s 
political climate, the issues with 
American government and society 
are 
increasingly 
complex 
and 

abstract. Activism has burst into the 
mainstream in response to this, and 
with it the message of “sticking it 
to the man” that much of Vietnam-
age music carried is almost not 
enough. The messages of that time 
have become commonplace in 
rock and folk, an expected edge to 
each genre that originated in the 
protests and festivals of the ’60s 
and ’70s. In its place, the protest 
music of today looks different, 
and elicits a different feeling than 
those songs: artists like Beyoncé, 
Childish Gambino and Kendrick 
Lamar have taken political action 
into rap and pop music, creating a 
new generation of activists that will 
hopefully continue the message just 
as those in the Vietnam era did. But 
the real question lies in whether 
the widespread political agendas 
of today’s musicians will become 
diluted in their commonality, or 
present a real chance to make 
change in America. If the effect of 
Vietnam’s music is any indication, 
connecting via art may hold the 
key to forming a community to flip 
the script of modern politics. But it 
is up to the listeners to take it into 
their own hands: Vietnam changed 
American music forever. Could the 
modern struggles of today’s political 
landscape change it for the better 
again?

TV NOTEBOOK
What’s the point?: The laziness of late-night satire

ALLY OWENS
Daily Arts Writer

ABC

