Good morning, and welcome to the
Essential California newsletter. It’s
Thursday, June 20, and I’m writing from Los Angeles.
Every summer, tens of thousands of people descend on a dry lake bed two hours north of Reno and build a temporary city in the desert. Yes, I’m talking about
Burning Man.
The festival, which is now in its third decade, draws eccentrics, celebrities and some of the
most powerful players in Silicon Valley for a week of all-out art, futurist jargon, free-ish love and — especially in recent years — an undercurrent of
semi-clad class warfare.
The festival is still two months away, but Bay Area media outlets and longtime burners alike have been aflutter over its future in recent days. Burning Man may be built on principles of “radical self-reliance,” but its pop-up city is erected on public land managed by the Nevada division of the Bureau of Land Management. And on Friday, the BLM released its final environmental impact statement on Burning Man, which stated that
attendees could face drug screenings at entrances.
It remains unclear whether these screenings would be instituted at this year’s festival or in 2020. (A BLM spokesperson told the
Reno Gazette Journal that it may hire a private security firm to do it this year or potentially wait until 2020; the BLM has yet to return my call.)
[See also: “Burning Man could start drug screening at all entrances, federal agency says” in the Sacramento Bee]Sure, some people may
attend Burning Man sober, but drugs (particularly those of the powder, paper and pills variety) are central to the festival’s reputation as a 9½-day “anything goes” escape from reality. And “whatever reputational expectation anyone has, it’s not terribly inaccurate,” says Burning Man expert Brian Doherty, a senior editor at Reason magazine and author of the 2004 book
“This Is Burning Man.”One quick thing to clarify before we go any further, as the festival is held in the Nevada desert and this is, of course, the Essential California newsletter: Even though Black Rock City is technically about 40 miles east of the California border, as the crow flies, I think it’s fair to say that Burning Man is (for better or worse) deeply California in every sense of the word — from its San Francisco roots (Burning Man began on Baker Beach in 1986) to the deep importance it has among Silicon Valley elites, to say nothing of the ethos of experimentation and artsy weirdness.
Another thing to note: Illegal drugs are
still illegal at Burning Man, and they always have been. Laws don’t dissipate willy-nilly in a cloud of playa dust, even if did you pay upwards of $425, not including fees, to spend Labor Day creating a new society in your underwear.
But, as Doherty put it, “If you’re asking me to estimate, 99.8% of people who do illegal drugs there don’t get in trouble.” There were
only 43 arrests, the majority of which were drug-related, during last year’s festival, which was attended by roughly 70,000 people.
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