My political science professor used to say that at the root of all great American literature is a respect for the past and contempt for the present, and that things are getting worse. It’s a complicated word, but I think it’s about the feeling of watching things grow and change, and perhaps not entirely liking how it ends up. As we grow up, we slowly take over the mantle of responsibility, and then as we grow older, we witness it being passed on to the next generation while lamenting that things used to be better.
It’s easy to fall into that mindset when it comes to our beautiful, sparkling coastal city. Things used to be cheaper, easier, and more eclectic. There were more hungry artists and funky shops and restaurants. It was a city for everyone, not just the wealthy. This is a phrase often used in liberal city success stories. For reference, listen to her 2007 song “New York, I Love You But You’re Getting Me Down” on LCD Soundsystem.
SMMR was created in part because Santa Monica’s location and amenities have become increasingly valuable, and as Santa Monica’s location and amenities have become increasingly valuable, they have realized that the city is changing and that their values are under threat from gentrification. It was something I recognized early on. SMMR also represented the young people who usurped the throne from the long-reigning chambers of commerce, the hippies on the cusp of early adulthood, and instituted the city they believed they could create.
Time passed and the hippies became elders. The Santa Monica they envisioned has, in some ways, come to fruition, and in others, it has been lost to the successes and failures of time. For those in his former SMMR, primarily baby boomers, who have led our nation’s politics for many years, the situation ahead may feel outside of their comfort zone.
“Santa Monica, I love you, but you disappoint me.”
In the last election, I decided to run for school board because I believed there were real problems in our school system, and the culprit was an out-of-touch and incompetent school board. Although I lost, I learned a lot in the process, and that process inspired me to write this column.
When I decided to run, I reached out to a former mayor who had a huge influence on me growing up and whom I greatly admired. We talked about why I was running and asked who was helping me. When I told them that, they said, “Those people are dangerous.”
That feeling stuck with me. Who exactly is it “dangerous” to? Then I was on Main Street at Loctoberfest and they just happened to be there. They turned and caught my eye, clearly surprised, blurted out, “Hi, Miles,” and kept walking. I yelled after them but they refused to talk to me and kept walking. I was surprised. My heart hurts. I was betrayed.
Thinking about those moments and this person I admired the most, I came to the conclusion that in their minds I had become one of the “dangerous” people.
When someone is “dangerous” you don’t interact with them. don’t listen to what they say. you keep walking. It’s a way to invalidate and demonize them. It is in many ways the opposite of liberalism and progressivism. It essentially comes from a place of fear. But what’s scary?
There is a certain paternalism and piety in the baby boomers who run the political committees and organizations that shape our cities. School board, SMMR, and The Dem Club leaders responded to criticism with the feeling that if you disagree with what we say or find fault with us, you must disagree with us. It seems like you’re reacting to this – you guys must be dangerous people.
This vulnerability to criticism reflects narcissism, but the feeling of “danger” is ultimately related to a desire to preserve the good we have built, but also somehow manage to magic the good we have lost. I would like to get it back like this. These baby boomer leaders and their allies want to make Santa Monica great again, and for them that means a relatively small town that allowed artists and bohemians to be creative and roam the streets. It means a return to cheap apartments, funky shops and retail that is accessible to outsiders. That restaurant.
Let me be clear: I miss Santa Monica, too. I miss cities that are less corporate and, to be honest, boring. But giving trust to the people who brought us here can go hand in hand with criticizing them and wishing things could be better. It’s not dangerous. We can still be friends even if we have different opinions. We can look at our mistakes and own them without losing our entire vision. And boomers can relinquish control without jeopardizing everything they’ve created.
Miles Warner is a parent and resident of Santa Monica. His columns explore our city’s new and changing identities and stir the pot a little.
