SPECIAL REPORT: The corrosive legacy of Live Aid
Like most people of my generation, I can still recall with utmost clarity the moment a bunch of denim-clad rockers strode on to the Wembley stage and struck up a song that never seemed more fitting: Rockin' All Over The World.
With those simple chords Status Quo launched Live Aid, supposedly the greatest concert the world had ever seen.
Like millions of people around the western world, I watched as Bono danced with an audience member, Paul McCartney crooned a Beatles classic and Freddie Mercury stole the show.
This was, after all, more than just a concert.
It was a collective act of global sympathy, the moment when some scruffy musicians showed all those stuffy politicians the true meaning of compassion.
One after another, those taking part claimed it was a day to change the world. And they were right - they did change the world.
The event was an amazing feat of organisation and an astonishing spectacle.
But tragically for an event born out of heartfelt concern for people suffering in a foreign land, it has had a negative impact. The more time passes, the more clearly we see the corrosive legacy of Live Aid.
Few should doubt the influence of that glorious summer day in 1985. We are governed by politicians who define themselves as the Live Aid generation. Just listen to the Prime Minister citing the concert for persuading him of the need to keep pumping aid into the developing world.
'I watched Live Aid,' he declared in a ringing defence of his controversial insistence that the overseas aid budget should be given an extra £4 billion over the next four years, despite spending cuts elsewhere.
David Cameron is not alone in lauding Live Aid; both his Labour predecessors watched the show and confessed to being influenced by it - Bob Geldof even called Tony Blair the 'Live Aid Prime Minister' - as did U.S. Presidents Bill Clinton and George Bush, plus scores of European leaders.
More importantly, so did all their electorates, who responded so generously when Bob Geldof pleaded for money.
But we can now see how this event has backfired, despite the best of intentions. It was founded on a misconception, promoted a patronising view of the world and encouraged the idea that soundbites, stunts and simplistic gestures can heal the most complex problems.
The result is the triumph of cheap emotionalism and celebrity politics - and, unfortunately, damage to the continent it sought to help.
Rest at Source @ The Daily Mail - I know the Mail is usually terrible, but this is actually a good article. Though as always with the Mail, avoid the comments.
With those simple chords Status Quo launched Live Aid, supposedly the greatest concert the world had ever seen.
Like millions of people around the western world, I watched as Bono danced with an audience member, Paul McCartney crooned a Beatles classic and Freddie Mercury stole the show.
This was, after all, more than just a concert.
It was a collective act of global sympathy, the moment when some scruffy musicians showed all those stuffy politicians the true meaning of compassion.
One after another, those taking part claimed it was a day to change the world. And they were right - they did change the world.
The event was an amazing feat of organisation and an astonishing spectacle.
But tragically for an event born out of heartfelt concern for people suffering in a foreign land, it has had a negative impact. The more time passes, the more clearly we see the corrosive legacy of Live Aid.
Few should doubt the influence of that glorious summer day in 1985. We are governed by politicians who define themselves as the Live Aid generation. Just listen to the Prime Minister citing the concert for persuading him of the need to keep pumping aid into the developing world.
'I watched Live Aid,' he declared in a ringing defence of his controversial insistence that the overseas aid budget should be given an extra £4 billion over the next four years, despite spending cuts elsewhere.
David Cameron is not alone in lauding Live Aid; both his Labour predecessors watched the show and confessed to being influenced by it - Bob Geldof even called Tony Blair the 'Live Aid Prime Minister' - as did U.S. Presidents Bill Clinton and George Bush, plus scores of European leaders.
More importantly, so did all their electorates, who responded so generously when Bob Geldof pleaded for money.
But we can now see how this event has backfired, despite the best of intentions. It was founded on a misconception, promoted a patronising view of the world and encouraged the idea that soundbites, stunts and simplistic gestures can heal the most complex problems.
The result is the triumph of cheap emotionalism and celebrity politics - and, unfortunately, damage to the continent it sought to help.
Rest at Source @ The Daily Mail - I know the Mail is usually terrible, but this is actually a good article. Though as always with the Mail, avoid the comments.