Gil Troy: What's Wrong with Live 8

'LIVE 8," the drive to fight African famine with con certs on July 2 in Philadelphia, Paris, Rome, Berlin, London and Toronto, was launched with much hoopla. "What started 20 years ago is coming to a political point in a few weeks," Bob Geldof told the BBC. "There's more than a chance that the boys and girls with guitars will finally get to tilt the world on its axis."

Geldof's idealism is lovely, but if the history of his 1985 brainchild, "Live Aid," is any indication, the results will be much less dramatic — and possibly harmful.

In the modern celebrity galaxy, where Geldof and such co-stars as Madonna, Stevie Wonder and Sir Paul McCartney live, selflessness and self-puffery blur. Even when these stars do good works, they need an audience. On July 13, 1985, 1.9 billion viewers from 152 countries watched the rock-'n'-roll aristocracy try to save the world.

"Live Aid" did raise money and awareness. But it was less activist and radical than it pretended to be. The insidious problem: Participants leave believing they helped, when they're mostly entertaining themselves and making themselves feel good. How many left those concerts in 1985 and then did anything to help in the ensuing 20 years?

The slickly produced 1985 show, flush with $4 million in corporate sponsorships, and with pop greats performing in London and Philadelphia for 16 hours, claimed to be resurrecting the now-legendary '60s spirit. "In the '80s, which is a barren era, we look back at the '60s as a great reservoir of talent, of high ideals and of the will and desire to change things," U2's Bono would say.

The Philadelphia show began with the '60s folk icon Joan Baez saying: "Good morning, children of the '80s. This is your Woodstock, and it's long overdue." Fourteen hours later, Bob Dylan sang "Blowin' in the Wind," followed by a "We Are the World" sing-a-long uniting the celebrities and the little people in song.

"I'm glad to be helping the hungry and having a good time," one 22-year-old told a reporter. Phone lines jammed. Profits would eventually hit $80 million.

The initiative inspired many imitators, including Willie Nelson's "Farm Aid" and "Hands Across America," raising money for the homeless by making a 5-million-person transcontinental human chain graced by Bill Cosby, Kenny Rogers and Pete Rose.

But such efforts are to real activism what Cheez Whiz is to cheese: similar label, different content. These celebrity singalongs were more acts of consumption — moments of entertainment, with prayers at the altar of celebrity worship and a dash of social consciousness added for effect. The billions of dollars rock stars earn dwarf the millions they helped raise for charity. In 1984 alone, Michael Jackson earned $30 million from record sales and another $50 million from tie-ins.

Organizers will say that "Live 8" is better than No Aid — and more political this time. But if fans walk away thinking they have fulfilled their obligation to solving Africa's problems for the next 20 years, this star-studded songfest will do more harm than good.

Millions need to shout from the rooftops condemning the Arab-initiated rapes and genocidal murder in the Sudan's Darfur region. Scientists have to intensify their efforts to stop the AIDS epidemic plaguing Africa. And billions must be spread — wisely — to feed Africa's poor.

If people really want to help Africa, they can spend July 2 lobbying Congress and the White House to force the Sudan to stop the Darfur genocide, pressuring health organizations to mobilize against AIDS and raising serious amounts of money to feed millions of starving kids and their parents — rather than boogeying to the sounds of Bon Jovi, Maroon 5 and the Barenaked Ladies.