Im-Politic: How to Deal with the Confederate and Other Now-Controversial Monuments

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A.P. Hill, Abraham Lincoln, Arlington National Cemetery, Aunt Jemima, Civil War, Confederacy, Confederate monuments, Constitution, cross-burning, Elizabeth Warren, First Amendment, Franklin D. Roosevelt, George C. Wallace, George Washington, Im-Politic, Ku Klux Klan, Mexican War, military bases, Pierre Beauregard, racism, Reconstruction, Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, Theodore G. Bilbo, Thomas Jefferson, treason, Trump, Tucker Carlson, Woodrow Wilson

Not that anyone’s asked for it, but the Confederate and other allegedly racist monuments issue is back in the news, so here’s my handy dandy guide for figuring out which of these memorials should be taken down or removed, which should remain publicly displayed (and how), and which should be left alone. (This guide, which only covers the major controversies that have reappeared recently, will of course include naming decisions for public buildings and spaces like parks and squares and streets.)

Some major misconceptions need to be cleared up first. Right off the bat, everyone should agree that whatever actions are taken (removal or alteration), they must result from legal processes. Unauthorized teardowns and inflictions of damage are simple vandalism and should be punished as such. No private person or group has the right to take these matters into their own hands, precisely because no one’s voted for you. As for public officials, unless laws specifically empower them to act unilaterally, they should always work through legislation or established rule-making procedures.

In addition, let’s drop the dishonest nonsense about statues and plaques on public grounds, and choices of names for public buildings or military bases and spaces like parks and squares, being simple descriptions or illustrations of history. Nothing could be clearer than that they’re meant to express honor and pride.

Similarly, making changes (including removal) has nothing to do with “erasing history.” To take one example, if Robert E. Lee’s name is taken off a high school or highway or whatever, there’s no chance that Lee will be forgotten. Every American who takes a public school course in U.S. history will learn about his role as commander of the Confederate army during the Civil War. And if you happened to cut or sleep through that class, you can always access one of the upteen gazillion books about that conflict that have been written for the last roughly century-and-a-half since it ended.

It’s true that public school students may not encounter the names of lesser Confederate figures. To which the only adult reply is “Big deal.” The reason that folks like Generals A.P. Hill or even Stonewall Jackson may be overlooked is because, in the end, they weren’t such big deals.

Also a no-brainer: If Americans want to honor controversial or despicable figures or movements or ideas on their own property, that’s in virtually all cases their Constitutionally protected right. Ditto for private businesses. If your neighbor is flying a Confederate flag or has painted a swastika on his property, you’re free to shun him, and to urge others to do the same. If you’re offended by Aunt Jemima, switch your pancake syrup brand, ask the company to use a new image or character, or encourage boycotts and trust in the market and consumer choice to settle the issue. (Cross-burning on one’s own private property, a la the viciously racist and anti-semitic Ku Klux Klan, is legally treated somewhat – but only somewhat – differently.)

More complicated is the question of which level of government should be making which decisions where public property is concerned. For instance, should a federal ban be enacted on using Confederate names on any public grounds, including state and local? I can see an argument for that proposition (as indicated below, it provides encouragement for treason, a Constitutionally designated crime or, alternatively, creates a discriminatory environment). But I can also understand the case for leaving the decision to the states and localities – and ultimately letting the market decide (mainly in the form of privately organized boycotts of the type that has pushed several states to drop anti-LGBT measures).

So having cleared away this intellectual brush, here’s the guide – at least for some of the major cases:

>Confederate leaders – they’re the easiest call of all. They were traitors. They took up arms against the U.S. government. No decent American should want to honor them in any way. Yes, there’s an argument that some of these naming decisions (e.g., for U.S. miIitary bases) were made in order to promote reconciliation between North and South after the Civil War. Indeed, President Trump just made it.

But the U.S. decision not to prosecute the leaders of the Confederacy – and execute them if found guilty – was a strong enough gesture of reconciliation. In addition, nearly all Confederate veterans – including senior officers – were soon permitted to vote and hold public office once more. And the same states whose rebellion ignited the war were admitted back into the Union.

As a result, naming numerous U.S. military bases after Confederate generals represents a grossly mistaken (at best), and I would argue utterly perverse and continuing slap in the face to all American citizens and legal residents of the country, and especially to the soldiers who fought and died to preserve the Union and their families and descendents. There are plenty of other American military leaders who served their country in actually patriotic and genuinely heroic ways. Their names belong on these bases instead.

But what about the graves of Confederate veterans (including rebels from “ordinary” backgrounds who may not have been slave owners or even racists) currently lying in U.S. military or other national cemeteries, including Arlington? There’s no doubt, as made clear here, that a number wound up there because of mistakes in identifying very partial physical remains. But it’s also clear that many were placed in or actually moved to these plots and the graves specially marked as signs of respect – and that Congress approved.

Massachusetts Democratic Senator Elizabeth Warren has recently introduced legislation to “remove all names, symbols, displays, monuments, and paraphernalia that honor or commemorate the Confederate States of America and anyone who voluntarily served it from all military bases and other assets of the Department of Defense.” Presumably (though I haven’t found the full text) this includes the markers.

Fox News talker Tucker Carlson (who I generally admire) condemned this measure as grave “desecration.” That’s reckless hyperbole, but if Warren would actually remove the markers, that looks excessive as well, since at least according to the official description in the National Parks Service post linked above, they simply identify the deceased as Confederates.

My bottom line: It’s not possible to figure out which of these veterans were bad guys and which were at least reasonably good guys, and the bodies are already interred. So I’d leave them be.

Not so, however, for the Confederate Memorial at Arlingon Cemetery – which even its official website says “offers a nostalgic, mythologized vision of the Confederacy, including highly sanitized depictions of slavery.” The Cemetery authorites go on to contend that “The Confederate Memorial offers an opportunity for visitors to reflect on the history and meanings of the Civil War, slavery, and the relationship between military service, citizenship and race in America.”

But given the monument’s clear glorification of the Confederate cause and its rose-colored view of slavery, and given that visitors have lots of other opportunities to reflect on the meaning of the Civil War and related issues, I’d ship this slab of stone out of there. It has no place on arguably the most sacred ground of this nation’s civic religion.

What to do with it, however, from that point – along with other Confederate monuments on federal grounds? Here I fully agree with those who would put them in museums instead of simply destroying them. Wouldn’t it be best to show them in a setting that could describe them fully and explain the context of their creation? And I’d deal with these statues and plaques on state and municipal lands in exactly the same way.

>Let’s move to American historical figures who didn’t revolt against their country, but nonetheless owned slaves and/or expressed racist views or supported racist policies. Here I’ll restate the argument I originally made in this post. If these figures were known only or best for racist views and positions – like former segregationist Alabama Governor George C. Wallace, or former (if you can believe it) even more racist Mississippi Governor and U.S. Senator Theodore G. Bilbo, I’d remove any statues etc from public grounds and stick them in museums, displayed as described above.

>The same would go, by the way, for Civil War leaders who for various reasons were widely seen after the conflict as personifications of honor or other military virtues, or who actually repented in word and/or deed after the war. Lee is the leading example of the former. However gentlemanly he might have been, or however well he may have treated his soldiers, and even however distinguished his record in the U.S. Army during the Mexican War (which, to complicate matters further, was in large measure a war of annexation), few would have paid much attention to him, or even known of him, if not for his Civil War role. So let’s get him and his name out of public spaces.

A prime example of the latter is Pierre Beauregard. This former Confederate general actually led the troops in South Carolina who fired on Fort Sumter and for all intents and purposes started Civil War. After the conflict, according to the official website of his hometown of New Orleans, he became “an early proponent of equal rights in Louisiana, serving as the outspoken leader of the short-lived and ultimately failed unification movement.”

Since I do believe in redemption (and hope everyone else does, too), I’d go along with a monument of some kind. But not the kind currently standing in the city – which depicts “the uniformed general astride his horse.” How about moving that statue to a museum, complete with a full bio, and putting up a new monument portraying him in civvies and celebrating his efforts to champion equality? Ditto for any similar cases.

As for those leaders with troublesome racial pasts and/or policy records who nonetheless are (rightly) known for much more (as I argued in the RealityChek post linked above) , I’d leave their monuments in place, too – but make the maximum feasible effort to add some explanations that mention these blemishes. By the way, such leaders include not only former slave-owning Presidents like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, and outspokenly racist former Presidents like Woodrow Wilson, but even former Presidents generally seen as race relations heroes – like Abraham Lincoln and Franklin D. Roosevelt. 

A final point about dealing with the Confederate and especially other controversial monuments: If anything should be obvious about this discussion of the issue, it’s how complicated much of the history is, and therefore how complicated many of the monuments et al decisions are. Some are indeed easy calls and should be made promptly. But no one should favor anything resembling a rush to judgment on the others.

Im-Politic: Is This 1968 All Over Again?

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1960s, 1968 election, 1972 election, African Americans, Chicago Democratic Convention riots, conservatives, D.C. riots, Democrats, Derek Chauvin, Garry Wills, George C. Wallace, George Floyd, Hubert H. Humphrey, Im-Politic, John Judis, King assassination, law and order, liberals, Martin Luther King, Minneapolis riots, Nixon Agonistes, political violence, race riots, racism, Republicans, Silent Majority, Trump, Vietnam

The short answer is “in lots of ways.” Not in all ways, though. And the differences could decisively affect the results of the upcoming presidential election. But at this point, the turmoil might still be at such an early stage those of us who aren’t completely clairvoyant can only sketch out the similarities, differences, and plausible scenarios.

First, the similarities. As with the riots that shook and burned numerous U.S. cities following the April 4 assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., today’s violence is both widespread and racially related. As in 1968, public opinion is deeply divided as to whether any of the violence has been warranted by past and ongoing iwrongs, and whether those responsible are mainly the victims of longstanding and widespread bigotry along with their sympathizers, or whether they’re mainly “outside agitators” who either simply want to cause and profit from trouble, or who seek to advance different or broader political agendas. As a result, as in 1968, a seeming chasm has opened up between those who would focus the initial national response on the racial injustices that have clearly contributed to the large-scale protests (if not necessarily the violence), and those who are more concerned with restoring public order.

As in 1968, the national mood has been inflamed for months by anger over issues other than race relations (then the Vietnam War, now all the political and social and cultural conflicts laid bare by President Trump’s rise to power and his policies during his first term – not to mention the pandemic!). Consequently, both in 1968 and today, worries appear to be growing that, as Garry Wills wrote (then) in is brilliant polemic Nixon Agonistes:

“There was a sense everywhere…that things were giving. That man had not only lost control of his history, but might never regain it. That palliatives would not serve, but that nothing but palliatives could be found. That we had slipped gears somewhere, and a chain of mismeshings was chewing the machinery up.”

And as mentioned, as in 1968, Americans are now in the middle of a presidential election year, and the aforementioned split concerning the initial response seems to break down pretty neatly along Left-Right, Democratic-Republican lines.

But don’t forget the differences. And let’s lead off with some badly needed good news: Specifically, so far, the deaths and the damage in 1968 far exceed today’s so far. Then, according to this review, “[I] the 10 days following King’s death, nearly 200 cities experienced looting, arson or sniper fire, and 54 of those cities saw more than $100,000 in property damage.” It continues: “Around 3,500 people were injured, 43 were killed and 27,000 arrested.”

Not that the King assassination riots were the only instances of violent upheaval in 1968. A multi-day conflict erupted outside the Democratic Convention in Chicago that August between protestors on the one hand, and Chicago cops, National Guardsmen, regular U.S. Army troops, and Secret Service agents on the other. Labeled a “police riot” by a federal commission appointed to investigate, the “Battle of Michigan Avenue” nonetheless resulted in no fatalities although 119 police and 100 protestors suffered injuries.

The current violence following the death at a white policeman’s hands of subdued African-American suspect George Floyd may not be over, but so far only about thirty cities have been hit with violence. Moreover, after several days, the toll isn’t nearly as heavy. Especially encouraging, as of this writing, only three deaths seem to have been recorded (in Indianapolis, Indiana, and in Oakland, California). I haven’t yet found a national injury count, but the Associated Press reports arrests at “at least 4,100.” It’s enough to make you wonder whether the social media- cable news-driven 24/7 news cycle in and of itself is heightening anxiety.– and worse – these days.

Moreover, for all the national divides that have opened up recently, broad consensus seems evident on the outrage perpetrated by fired and indicted Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin, and a weaker but not negligible consensus that something has been unacceptably wrong between how the nation’s law enforcement system deals with racial minorities in situations ranging from traffic stops to inherently dangerous apprehensions to prison sentencing.

And despite the aforementioned apparent neatness of the Left-Right divide over initial responses, the actual political situation is thoroughly scrambled and confusing. Then, Democrats controlled the White House and both Houses of Congress. Now, a Republican (however unconventional) sits in the White House, and the House and Senate are split.

Therefore, it was readily understandable then that a critical mass of American voters would blame the incumbent President and his party for that Annus Horribilis and reject the Vice President who carried the Democrats’ tattered banner. (Nonetheless, the electoral results were much more mixed than might have been expected. The Democrats held on to the whole of Congress. And although Republican Richard M. Nixon triumphed handily in the Electoral College, his popular vote margin was narrow. Of course, it’s also possible that third party candidate George C. Wallace drew more individual votes from Nixon than from Democrat Hubert H. Humphrey.

It seems clear that President Trump is hoping to avoid the Democrats’ 1968 fate by taking the law-and-order route.that aided Nixon I strongly suspect that this choice is wise in principle. After all, as in 1968, a critical mass of the electorate is likely to value preventing perceived chaos over righting racial wrongs, at least for the foreseeable future. I’d also bet that the failure thus far of the Democrats’ national leaders to condemn the violence forthrightly will boost Mr. Trump’s chances all else equal.

But here’s the catch. They’re not equal. Most important, President Trump himself is incumbent. However legitimate his complaints that protecting public safety is first and foremost the province of mayors and governors, does anyone seriously believe he’ll dodge all blame if events keep seeming to spin out of control? Might even some of his base start asking where his avowed “take charge,” “get things done” qualities have gone in an hour of urgent national need? At the least, for all his tough talk, the longer Mr. Trump seems to dither, the blurrier the contrast he’ll be able to credibly draw with the Democrats.

And perhaps most damaging of all: How will many Trumpers view his failure to maintain order literally in his own backyard, as a church was set on fire last night just a cross Lafayette Park from his (White) house? Sure, District of Columbia Mayor Muriel Bowser screwed up royally by setting the local curfew at 11 PM. But as indicated in this key Supreme Court decision, the Constitution seems to say that the President can unilaterally call out not only the National Guard but the entire U.S. military to “protect each State…against domestic Violence.” And even if it didn’t, how much pushback would he have gotten from even moderate, swing voters from taking emergency measures?

John Judis, a left-of-center political writers whose judgments I greatly respect, has suggested, albeit obliquely, that the most important comparison politically speaking isn’t between now and 1968, but between now and 1972.  During his first term, Republican incumbent Nixon arguably presided over a country just as turbulent and violent as in 1968. Yet his “silent majority” helped him win one of the greatest landslides in the nation’s history. I’m the last person who’d dismiss this possibility altogether. But Nixon wasn’t also dealing with a pandemic and a national economy that had been flattened by shutdowns. Counting President Trump out has been one of the worst bets in recent U.S. political history. But mightn’t there be a first time for everything?