Which Sounds More Close To The Truth To You?

A) Christopher Hitchens, "Still a Soixante-Huitard", City Journal:

The lowest form of solidarity, I remember reading somewhere, is generational. What do you have to do, after all, to qualify as a "baby boomer"? Membership in that vast sodality means that you were in your late teens or early twenties during the sixties: an underwhelming achievement that required no more than being able to say "present." As someone born in 1949, I prefer to consider myself not a mere sixties person but a soixante-huitard. If there didn't happen to be French argot for this, I would still want to answer to the name "sixty-eighter."

For me, this date-stamped association of memories and ideas and bygone struggles has almost nothing to do with the checklist recently evoked onscreen by Tom Brokaw, which ran the gamut from the Tet Offensive and the murder of Martin Luther King to the images of Haight-Ashbury and the mystic lyrics of Buffalo Springfield. That year was for me a rite of passage, a sort of ordeal, as well as a kind of joy and liberation.

Like most years and most decades, it didn't begin or end on strict calendar time. The sixties themselves didn't get started until at least 1963, and the psychodrama of 1968 arguably opened with the death of Che Guevara in the fall of 1967. I myself would argue that it began earlier, with the fascist military coup in Athens in April of that year and with the first strong manifestations of open dissent in Czechoslovakia. If you were a real political soixante-huitard, which meant that you were in one way or another related to the New Left, what you looked for and hoped for was a resistance to both the Eastern and Western "blocs." Sex, drugs, and rock and roll were strong options, but they were just that-optional. In my cohort, we kept our hair short and our demeanor non-psychedelic, the better to appeal to the workers at the factory gate, who, we thought, were about to see through the realm of illusion foisted upon them by a combination of consumerism and the Cold War.

Laugh all you like. You didn't see the workers in that French plant in 1968, rearranging the big letters of the factory owner's name (Berliet) so that the sign over the gate now read liberte. * * *

There are also soixante-huitards whose adventures are less well known and far from over. I have met them among the tiny minority, from Bosnia to Zimbabwe to Iraq, who have struggled to evolve a consistent antitotalitarian politics and to marry it to a thoroughgoing internationalism. One day, perhaps, their less glamorous story will also be told. The owl of Minerva, as Hegel put it, takes wing at dusk. Only at the close of an epoch can one begin to evaluate it. * * *

Or B) Cyril de Pins, "Mai 68 ou le vide en heritage," Causeur.fr?

We are the heirs of May 1968. It is indubitable. But we no longer see ourselves only in that light. Those, like myself, who were born after 1970, only inherited what was bequeathed to them by the preceding generation, the generation of those who were in their twenties during the springtime festivities regarded by so many as a revolution. And this heritage is indeed impoverished: it consists of a juvenile proclivity to publicly complain and denounce, of an unlimited and blind confidence in youth and in oneself, of a hatred of the principle of authority, and of a hateful rejection of the past.

The Communist Internationale said, "Let us make tabula rasa of the past." May 1968 and its lyrical little soldiers did just that, shouting: "Run, comrade, the old world is behind you."

The least one can say is that they pretty much succeeded: there is no longer a student who knows who Danton or Marat were, who can distinguish a Romanesque church from a wash house, or who can even say who Lenin and Mao were. Students today use history in the same way as their elders: history is good only insofar as it proposes imperfect rough drafts of our modernity.

* * *

Like all spoiled children, they destroyed what they received, what history had preserved for so long, those languages, those traditions, the instruction inherited from the Jesuits and spread by the Republic. They replaced all of that with their whims, their fantasies and by the memory of their youth.

* * *

We received only the narcissism of history's spoiled children and their "feel good" notions; we received no knowledge, no savoir-faire. Therefore, is it not up to our generation to judge the record of May 1968 and the actions of its participants, rather than the generation that has already done enough to deaden the minds of its descendants and deprive them of culture? But THEY are the only ones we hear! For forty years they are all we hear, as if France had begun with their shouts and their slogans; every day they strut, like veterans of a war, when in fact they are recent pensioners. The REAL resistance fighters, who owed their careers to their commitment, had both courage and modesty.

To merge my politics with my passion for MMO gaming:

omg, de Pins just totally pwned Hitchens.