Abbie Hoffman -- one-time leader of the Yippies and perhaps the last genuine American radical of the 20th century -- died by his own hand in April 1989, but not before he had left his imprint on a generation of protesters. As Democrats return to Chicago for the first time since the 1968 National Convention, there's no question that Abbie would be out there on the streets once again -- leading in-your-face demonstrations. PNS commentator Jonah Raskin was Minister of Education of the Yippies. His book "For the Hell of It: The Life and Times of Abbie Hoffman" will be published later this year.

SONOMA, CA. -- Where is Abbie Hoffman when we need him?

In 1968, the man many activists view as the last genuine American radical of the 20th century, did something that had never been done before. He invited Americans to a "Festival of Life" in the streets and the parks of Chicago -- an alternative to what he called the Democrats' "Convention of Death."

Today as democrats return to Chicago for the first time since 1968, the streets are largely silent. Most protesters are pinning their hopes to be heard on winning a lottery.

Hoffman's zany "Festival of Life" offered something for almost everyone -- sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll, lots of street theater and a little bit of revolution just for the hell of it. As leader of the Yippie demonstrations, he nominated a pig for president, urged demonstrators to fight the police, or committed civil disobedience on Michigan Ave. His point, always, was to draw the TV cameras so that Americans would finally see what they'd been refusing to see, or hadn't been allowed to see -- that the country was profoundly polarized, that antagonism and confrontation were the order of the day, and that violence was endemic.

For the most part, Abbie got exactly what he wanted. The police rioted outside the Hilton Hotel, while the whole world watched -- except for Abbie himself, who got himself arrested for writing a four letter word on his forehead.

Hoffman died of his own hand in April 1989. But were he alive and well today, it's a sure bet he'd be out there on Chicago's streets, carrying on the Hoffman family tradition of protest. This time around, however, Abbie would be likely to advocate safe sex, vitamins and herbs, world music, and reform.

More importantly, he would want America to see that our country is still deeply divided, that it's still at war with itself and that there are profound racial and social injustices. He'd try to steal the convention, to liberate it from itself. He'd bring the poor, the disenfranchised, the alienated, and the outcast to Chicago, and he would involve them in guerrilla theater. Naturally, he'd make sure that television transmitted their image and their message to middle class Americans at home in their living rooms.

If Abbie were alive today he'd also be running for office, probably on the local level, and undoubtedly as a Democrat. He never believed in third parties, and though he detested Lyndon Baines Johnson and Hubert Humphrey in 1968, he had a life long affinity for the Democrats. In 1960 he voted for John F. Kennedy and the New Frontier. In 1972 he supported Senator George McGovern, and in 1976 and 1980 he praised Jimmy Carter (as Carter praised him). But clearly Abbie wouldn't be a middle-of-the-road Democrat. Whether throwing dollar bills onto the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, or levitating the Pentagon, he'd bring the kind of outrageous play to party politics that Dennis Rodman has brought to the National Basketball Association.

Though he'd campaign for office, he'd have a sense of irony about elections, candidates and his own career as a politician. He'd be loud, funny, irreverent and in our face. What's more, he have his own Web site. He'd test the limits of freedom of speech by shouting incendiary remarks in crowded theaters and on the internet.

In the 1960s Abbie helped to establish identity politics when he rallied the citizens of Woodstock Nation in their rebellion against their own fathers. He'd still be waging a modified version of generational warfare, but now he'd be on the opposite side of the barricades. He'd be the enfant terrible for the generation that's on the cusp of retirement. Staging colorful protests at Chicago's hospitals, he'd demand adequate health care for everyone.

Too bad Abbie's not there now to challenge the powers that be. Too bad he won't be in the line-up to help us laugh at our cultural absurdities, to remind us of our bitter political past, and to ease us into the anxieties of the 21st century.