The Law has spoken: Burning Man has been co-opted by The Man. In an essay published by the San Francisco Standard this past weekend, one of the event’s original co-founders, John Law, lamented that the anarchic utopia he and his co-conspirators ushered into existence in 1990 now leaves him “a little sad”. These days, he argues, the festival has become little more than a “fabulous Disneyland for the well-heeled,” the whole enterprise eroded gradually by swelling hoards of wealthy tech bros and influencers.
Personally, I’ve spent some of the happiest weeks of my life roaming around Black Rock City, the temporary desert metropolis where Burning Man takes place, but I’m not about to argue with Law. His criticisms of the luxury camps, with their celebrity chefs and private jets, ring absolutely true. As ever in life, though, it’s all relative.
So I would add one small caveat: You know what else has been degraded over the last few decades by bowing to the whims of a wealthy elite? We see the effects of growing wealth inequality throughout modern life, from culture to politics, and festivals are certainly no exception. Over the past twenty years I’ve used my music journalist’s credentials and an acquired knack for blagging to talk my way into parties everywhere from Moscow to Malawi and from Curitiba to Cambodia.
Wherever you land on this planet, there is one truth universally acknowledged: Things aren’t as good as they used to be, and the culprit is invariably somebody trying to milk more money out of their cash cow. So while the same is surely true of Burning Man, it’s also the case that the event has managed to maintain a radical spirit that you won’t find anywhere else. This weekend, tens of thousands of people made their way along a single-track road across the Nevada desert into a sprawling, dreamlike city that bursts into existence just once a year.
When I think of them, I don’t pity them because Burning Man isn’t what it was a decade ago. I envy what they’re about to experience. My first time in the Black Rock Desert was over a decade ago now, in 2014, and like any other neophyte, I really had no idea what I was letting myself in for.
The pictures you see don’t come close to doing justice to the sheer scale of the place. The first thing you have to get your head around is the desert itself: 1,000 square miles of nothing. It’s the sort of place you might go if you wanted to set a land speed record or launch a rocket into space, but only true maniacs would look at it and decide to throw a party.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
