On Monday, December 19th, Phil Ochs, the great topical songwriter of the sixties, would be 65 years old had he lived.
Ochs was certainly a voice of his own age, but he speaks surprisingly well to the situations we find ourselves in today–and is worth listening to, as we struggle to find the idealism that was such a cornerstone of his life and work.
For the next few days, I’ll be (and have been) creating a round robin of diary posts on different blogs, linking them in hopes that I can lead as many people as possible to his music through my discussions of his lyrics.
In this one, I present, more than discuss, his song “The Marines Have Landed on the Shores of Santo Domingo.”
Back in those long ago days, when our troops were roaring towards Baghdad, reporters embedded and so much of America feeling powerful and vengeful (believing there really was a link between Saddam and 9/11, that WMDs just waited to be found, etc.), Phil Ochs’ song “The Marines Have Landed on the Shores of Santo Domingo” resonated in my head. I just couldn’t believe we were doing it again, that we hadn’t ever learned that this leads to nothing but destruction.
The streets are still, there’s silence in the hills, the town is sleeping
And the farmers yawn in the grey silver dawn, the fields they’re keeping
As the first troops land and step into the sand, the flags are weaving.
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.
Many times, in the months and years since, as I watch or listen to reports from Iraq, the song comes to my head, filling me with an overwhelming sadness.
What a great and wonderful country we live in, yet we demean it, in our own eyes and the eyes of the world every time we act the bully and force our will on someone else.
Ready for the tricks, their bayonets are fixed, now they are rolling
And the tanks make tracks past the trembling shacks where fear is unfolding
All the young wives afraid, turn their backs on the parade with babes they’re holding
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.
Then there’s the destruction, to us and to those we seek to overwhelm:
A bullet cracks the sound, the soldiers hit the ground, the sniper is calling
So they open their guns, a thousand to one, no sense in stalling
He clutches at his head and totters on the edge, look how he’s falling
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo
Even today, the song reverberates from the news. President Bush talks of victory; claims of progress are made:
Up and down the road, the generals drink a toast, the wheel is spinning
And the cowards and the whores are peeking through the doors to see who’s winning
But the traitors will pretend that it’s getting near the end, when it’s beginning
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo
This song is decades and decades old. Shouldn’t we have progressed? Haven’t we learned anything? “It’s beginning,” Ochs writes. And it has been beginning for year upon year upon year.
Isn’t it time we put a real end to all of this? Isn’t it time we became a mature nation instead of a bully?
