On Statues, Elites, and the Lost Cause

 

In the winter and spring of 2013, I was lucky enough to find myself studying in Washington D.C. One of my evening courses frequently met at locations across the capitol, hardly ever in a traditional classroom. The most frequent location was the National Mall with its dozens of monuments large and small. Through these field trips we would discuss the legacies of the Vietnam War, World War II, FDR, and Abraham Lincoln. On one particularly cold night, we stood (freezing) on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and read the inscriptions of his inaugural address and recited Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. As we commemorated, studied, and critiqued these monuments to men, women, and world events, our professor challenged us with his pet philosophy, “See what no one else sees.” In pursuit of this abstruse philosophy he assigned us the task of walking the mall until we saw what no one else could see. The task was daunting. The United States Capitol is was one of the most visited Capitol cities in the world, its monuments are never short of people observing and immortalizing its every step and statue in photographs, paintings, and treasured memories. So how does one see what the rest of the world does not see?

I walked the length of the Mall in pursuit of that answer, stopping here and there to try and find it. I stopped at Lincoln, Washington, Jefferson, MLK, FDR, searching for what no one else could see. Finally, giving up on finding anything unforeseen in the shadows of these imposing monuments, I began my slow walk back up Capitol Hill, and I considered the Mall as a whole. I began to appreciate that this was our Parthenon our Olympus, this was where we have anointed our American mythology, where we venerate great men to demi-god (if not god) status. We may not admit it in so many words, but we as Americans (left and right) often find ourselves in subtle hero-worship of great men and women. Or in the case of the 19 foot (while sitting down) statue of Lincoln, not so subtly. But for all these philosophic revelations I had not found what no one else sees.

That is, until I came to the monument of Ulysses S. Grant on his warhorse, defending the Capitol; the eternal soldier. A student of the Civil War as I am, I walked around the reflecting pool, taking in the imposing figure, flanked my lions, charging cavalry, and horse drawn canon as if the old general was ready to spring back to life in defense of the Union at a moment’s notice. If ever there was an American Ares, god of war, it would be this Ulysses. Then I saw him, the nameless soldier beneath the trampling hooves of the cavalry, a fallen solider with downcast eyes devoid of hope, facing the inevitable end. I sat their staring at this tragic figure, wondering to myself how many tourists, how many students must have taken in this great martial scene without ever noticing or appreciating this downtrodden soldier. It was with this inanimate warrior in mind that I walked back through the war monuments, World War II, Vietnam, and Korea.

I thought to myself, it is no coincidence that very few modern figures have earned the honor of being immortalized in our Mount Olympus on the Potomac. Today we understand that our leaders, our generals, presidents, and heroes are flawed. They are not gods. Lyndon B. Johnson fought for Civil Rights and attempted to build a Great Society, but he also escalated the Vietnam War. Richard Nixon opened the world to China but he covered up political espionage and bombed Cambodia. And Ronald Reagan asked Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall, but he also had the Iran-Contra scandal. And that was when I saw what no one else saw—That great men were unlikely to be honored with great monuments in our time, but the everyday man, the trampled solider, the ones that give the most will always deserve a monument. Many young people do not realize the great controversy that surrounded the effort to memorialize the Vietnam War, a war disliked by many, a war with unclear justifications, and a war that we did not win. In the end, the memorial stands as a perfect tribute to the men and women that suffered and were lost during the war. It is with this memory at the forefront that I turn to the controversy of Confederate monuments in the United States.

There were historically great men that served in the Confederacy, this is a point that cannot be disputed. Great in the sense that they won battles or exhibited many desirable attributes and abilities. Robert E. Lee is the most obvious and most popular representative sample from the Confederacy. But he was also a slaver-owner, a preserver of the original national sin of slavery. The cancer cell that was born into the nation that grew until it had to be violently and painfully removed through war. Because of this fact alone, all leaders of the Confederacy bear a damning flaw.  So what do we do with you, Robert E. Lee? Many are now arguing that the timing of the monuments construction should dictate the answer. Insisting that since many of the monuments went up during the times of Jim Crow, or as backlash from the Civil Rights movement that they should be removed. Undoubtedly this is important to consider. But in the end, the question is about what we want to memorialize today, not what those in the past attempted to immortalize.

Another important factor is the resurgence or rather the emergence of white supremacist and Neo-Nazis groups as proponents of the statues. But these delusional radicals could just as easy begin rallying around Washington’s monuments claiming he represents white supremacy and white culture. We cannot base our decision entirely on the rallies of the demented. They will find a place to rally regardless. Again, it is not about what they want, but what we as a nation ought to memorialize today.

And what we ought to memorialize is this, 620,000 American soldiers died to decide the conflict between us in 1861. Some fought for the Federal government, some the Confederate. And the vast majority of them were just unnamed men, trampled underfoot by the command and machinations of their flawed leaders. It’s not the Lees, or Jacksons that we should preserve, those flawed heroes, but the farmer who was enlisted to fight and die for a cause that was ultimately unjust. I believe each community should consider taking down their monuments, but particularly those dedicated to the leaders of the Confederacy. At the feet of those leaders lie the responsibility for the war. Those who played on the emotions and fears of the everyday man for the benefit of the few. We understand today the extent of their flaws. Instead of commemorating such men, I would urge states, cities, and towns to erect and preserve monuments to all those nameless soldiers that were trampled by the machinations of “great” men. Let the monuments stand as a reminder of the war that pit brother against brother and ended the lives of so many good men. Let the monuments be a warning of the terrible cost that follows when reason and equality cannot carry the day by peaceful means. But let us remember the trampled solider, let us immortalize him not because of the myth of the lost cause, not because the South will rise again, but because blue and gray look the same when trampled in the blood and the mud.  -JABB