The era of Confederate statue removal hit a new fever pitch yesterday in Charlottesville, with violent protests leaving one courageous woman and two courageous police officers dead and with a United States president acting anything but courageously in his refusal to condemn white supremacy and Nazism.
Vehement opposition to the removal of Confederate statues and symbols has been an ongoing issue for a while. And so has a similarly dangerous phenomenon, that of “I’m not racist but I’m annoyed that the government is making these statues an issue” white people. Listen: no blog post, speech, or conversation will change the minds of those willing to take up arms (and waste away weekends) to defend these monuments. If you’re in that camp, you’re just an unfortunate storage device for the carbon that will hopefully soon be returned to the soil as a result of your similar opposition to motorcycle helmet laws. But for those who less-voraciously-but-still -vocally oppose the removal of those statues, I must, with genuine curiosity amidst my anger, ask: why?
Here’s how I see it:
- Nobody “deserves” a statue.
Rounded to the nearest hundredths, thousandths, or ten-thousandths place, 0% of humans who have ever walked the planet have been immortalized as a legitimate statue (I say “legitimate” to exempt novelty bobbleheads and low-rent wax museums). When you look at the billions of people who have lived, the number who have been on display as a public statue is statistically insignificant. Which is to say: if the worst thing that happens to you is that, 150 years after your death, it turns out you don’t have a statue in a public park in the American south, you’ve paid absolutely no price. Don’t cry for Robert E. Lee or Jefferson Davis if a city or state government deems them unworthy of a statue; that’s the normal expectation for anyone.
Statues exist to honor incredible contributions to society, to inspire future generations to similar greatness, to serve as a reminder of what we’ve achieved and what we can still achieve. The bar for being a statue should naturally be extremely high. And, yes, there has to be a lot of luck involved. There are thousands of amazing people who probably “deserve” a statue for their achievements and values, but perhaps lived their valiant, honorable lives in obscurity: for every Mother Teresa or Harriet Tubman who entered our consciousness, there were countless others who sacrificed and contributed in similar ways without our knowing.
And, yes, that luck sometimes involves happening to be on the winning team. Would-be 1986 World Series MVP Bruce Hurst probably has a statue somewhere in Boston if Bill Buckner fields that grounder in Game 6, and Benedict Arnold would be happily Hurst-like forgotten had the heavily-favored British won the Revolutionary War. But they were on losing teams, so fairly or not history remembers them the way history remembers them.
Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, and others knew the risk they were taking when they – a la Benedict Arnold – took up arms against the United States. Win and you’re a hero in your new country, but lose and you’re likely a pariah, a traitor, a criminal. That’s part of why we so commemorate George Washington, Paul Revere, Patrick Henry – they were willing to take that massive risk for the country they believed in…and they were on the winning team. Lee? Davis? They lost. If “to the victor go the spoils,” then the loser can’t really expect a statue, right?
And spare me the discussion of what a great hero Lee was before the war. There are, of course, conflicting reports of how admirable a man he was, many of those reports citing the whitewashing of the Confederate cause during Reconstruction (more on that in a second). The fact remains, no matter how great a person you are, when it comes to how you’re historically remembered there’s a very good chance that history will remember you for your worst decisions or qualities, not just the highlights on your resume. Hitler doesn’t get a pass because he led an incredible economic transformation in Germany. OJ Simpson doesn’t get to ask that we only judge him for everything between USC and Naked Gun 2 1/2. And Joe Paterno shouldn’t have a statue either. Whether the defining moment of your career is genocide, murder and domestic assault, aiding and abetting pedophilia, or propagating slavery, the world has a right to decide that that moment overshadows the good things you’ve done. And, ultimately, a world that doesn’t draw that conclusion is a pretty shitty world. Germany has done a nice job of distancing itself from Hitler; USC is still struggling but moving toward righteousness with OJ; and southern U.S. cities should feel comfortable – now over 150 years later – divorcing from the Confederacy.
2. There are no victims when statues are removed
So Lee, Davis, et al. certainly don’t deserve statues. Think of it this way: if your local school board were building a new school and asked the community for suggestions for a namesake, you wouldn’t feel sheepish about suggesting Abraham Lincoln, Paul Revere, FDR, or Rosa Parks. They pass the “still honorable” test; we would build new statues of them today, so of course their statues are still relevant. But would you really suggest Jefferson Davis?
One could argue that Confederate statues “used to” serve a non-objectionable purpose. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers died in the Confederate cause, meaning that millions of loved ones lost sons, husbands, fathers, brothers. To immediately say in 1865 “hey that whole Southern independence thing…man were we wrong!” would be a really hard pill for the grieving to swallow, coming to grips with the fact that their loved ones died in vain. So perhaps it was only natural to try to smooth over “slavery” and reposition the war as being about “state’s rights,” “Northern aggression,” or whatever else they had to do to save face. And perhaps continuing to lionize the Confederate leaders was an important part of that quest to continue believing that those men died for something at least somewhat noble.
But now? Over 150 years later? There are no wives, mothers, sons, or daughters of Confederate soldiers left who need that crutch. (And some crazy Guinness Book article might claim that there’s one living grandchild left, but if so that soldier did not die by 1865) There’s no one alive today who remembers someone who fought for the Confederate cause, so there’s no need to protect that fragile psyche. Taking down the statues comes at no real cost to anyone: if, after the intervening 150 years have produced the Roosevelts, Gandhi, MLK, Churchill, Mandela, Eisenhower, Armstrong/Aldrin, Kennedy, and screw it I’ll throw in Reagan for the staunch Republicans, you still look up to Robert E. Lee, P.G.T. Beauregard, or Nathan Bedford Forrest as your top hero, well then hello, Steve. But if you’re anyone else, you’re only interested in protecting the statues because 1) “that’s how it’s always been and I like it,” which is a terrible reason for government policy or 2) you erroneously think that the statues represent “Southern culture,” which is actually 100% antithetical to your love of the south. (This post is already too long but there are tons of things to love about the south – southern hospitality, great food, great music, all kinds of scenic beauty, passionate college football fans, great small towns with close-knit communities – and none of those things are conflated with slavery. How about stick to those?)
And a sidenote: just above I gave the “helping the grieving make piece” excuse for why those statues (and street names and school names) may have had merit at one point. But most of them came well after the Civil War. The recently-removed Lee statue in New Orleans arrived in 1884; the Charlottesville statue in question only dates back to 1924. This chart shows a general accounting of when Confederate monuments were installed. Note the spike around 1910, and consider this: that was 55 years after the war ended. That would be like Germany building statues to Hitler and the SS between 1995 and 2000! Some statues may have been there to help the aggrieved; most were absolutely not that.
3. Keeping them up has a real cost.
Imagine being Jewish and walking past Himmler Street on your way to apply for a job at a building with a swastika on it. When state-sponsored parks, streets, and government buildings openly honor people whose defining cause was that entire groups of people are lesser, are inhuman, that’s a horrible message to send. And a damaging one: research shows that people perform poorly on tasks when those tasks are immediately preceded by a reminder – even a seemingly docile one – that they have a reason to not do well (e.g., a black female – a member of two groups that tends to have lower-than-average test scores – will perform worse on a test if she is prompted to note her gender/ethnicity before the test; all reputable testing agencies have moved demographic research solicitation to the ends of tests for this very reason). So while you might think “I always give directions by telling people to turn left at Jefferson Davis Park! What am I supposed to say if they change the name?!,” remember that your tiny convenience serves as a lifelong hurdle for lots of people who have to pass that park on their way to school or work. These are not victimless statues!
And a sidenote – the main objection to the removal of these statues is “political correctness run amok.” I’ll write about this another day, but my general experience has been that my typical knee-jerk reaction to political correctness is “that’s stupid, get over it” until I think about it and realize “hey actually I can see why this would really bother someone.” Consider, for just a second, the difference between “handicapped person” and “person with disabilities.” Yeah, yeah you can say “hey that’s just how we do adjectives, putting them before the noun – get over it.” But when you really focus on the meaning, in the first, traditional one, the person’s humanity is already pre-qualified as “lesser” when you modify it before you even address it. In the second, they’re given full human/equal status first, and then an additional piece of information is added. And yeah it’s a few extra syllables for you, but if you really think about it it’s a small price to pay to not totally marginalize someone. The same is true of these statues.
And think about the other side of that: these high-profile memorial sites could be used to honor and inspire on new dimensions. There are – rightfully – tons of military-themed memorials around the U.S., but with the skew toward the Revolution and Civil War they honor cavalry and muskets when an increasing role in American defense is played by technology and supply. Why not honor non-battlefield heroes like Alan Turing and Rosie the Riveter? Why not inspire the next generation of innovators by honoring Neil Armstrong, Nikola Tesla, and Sally Ride? Why not include some diversity and/or add some new blood?
Let me put it like this: I have a fiancé who is deathly allergic to soy sauce. If she even has a bite of something that’s been on a grill that at some other time had teriyaki or soy sauce on it, her throat closes up and she has to freebase Benadryl and/or inject an epi-pen. Yet I like sushi, Thai, and Chinese food. White people who “just kind of like the tradition” of the statues are like if I brought home a few sushi rolls and some General Tsao’s, loaded it all up with soy sauce, and ate it in front of her on a plate and with a fork that she’ll inevitably have to use after I lackadaisically wash it and put it back in the cabinet. My general convenience and light enjoyment – your appreciation of Dixie tradition – has real, meaningful, derogatory implications for someone else. So I just don’t do that, and neither should you.
It’s a lot like…
Ultimately, the Confederate statues are a lot like this: you had your share of bad relationships in your youth, you’re now settled down and maybe engaged/married with your forever partner…and your Facebook profile picture is still of you with your ex.
The Confederacy is your ex. We know that you’ll always have those feelings, and on bad days with us you may long for your best days with Dixie, but come on…it’s time to delete the picture and move on with your future.
See Me Squeegee 
Very well done!